


Even As I Stumble

by Alcnolien



Series: Talia Amell: The Unauthorized Biography [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Amell (Dragon Age) is not a Warden, Companion Warden (Dragon Age), Drunk Alistair (Dragon Age), F/M, Gen, Hangover, Healing, Light Angst, POV Cole, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Tranquil Jowan, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcnolien/pseuds/Alcnolien
Summary: Although the Blight ended long ago, so many still bear the scars it left behind.Still in Redcliffe after Teagan dragged him back from Kirkwall, Alistair finds himself overwhelmed by the sudden and unexpected onset of The Calling. Rather deal with the implications, he falls back on the one thing he still knows how to do- drink away his feelings.Talia Amell, a mage who lost her best friend in the worst way possible, who could only watch helplessly as her home was torn apart, is desperate to return to the way things used to be. Instead, she finds her life ripped apart by the Mage rebellion, on the run with a ragtag group of mage children and tranquil.Somehow, the two of them find their way to the Inquisition, where, maybe, they can begin to heal.





	1. Prologue: The Tale of the Fifth Blight

Hours... days... weeks? 

How long had she been trapped in that Harrowing chamber?

Vision after vision was forced into her mind. Temptations- freedom, sunshine, power, the family she had left in Kirkwall, that templar boy she enjoyed teasing...

 _None of it's real, Talia,_ she repeated to herself, over and over again.  _They're only shadows._ She huffed, gritting her teeth. _I didn't overcome my harrowing only to succumb to something like this._

When they realized pleasure wouldn't move her, they moved on to something a little harder to ignore- pain.

Her loved ones tortured- the mother whose face faded from her memory every day, little by little. Jowan- that _fool_ Jowan- dead, facedown in a ditch, or worse, torturing some poor soul with his newly discovered power. And sometimes, just regular, good old-fashioned physical pain. Somehow a relief, compared to the emotional torment. Pure. Simple! Agonizing.

At one point, a groan nearby managed to bring her back to reality. It had come from Irving, tied up next to her- he and a few others still kept a grip on themselves, but many had given in or perished long ago.

Uldred's snide voice came from behind her. “Still won't submit, will you? Alright... lets try something else.” And everything went black.

 

* * *

 

“To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there!” 

The Warden's brow knit together as she examined the boy through the purple sheen of the barrier separating them. His eyes were wild, ringed with dark circles- he obviously hadn't truly slept in days, and had definitely been tortured. She'd seen this look before- desperation. Only a fool would take his advice at face value.

“... No.”

“But-!”

She cut him off with a look as hard as the stone she had supposedly come from. “... I don't know if you've heard, but there _is_ a Blight on, and apparently we're the only ones who can stop it. These people can help me, and I need them alive. Ferelden- no, _Thedas_ needs them alive. Blood Mages or not.”

The templar moved as if to protest, before sighing bitterly, almost deflating. “... As you can see, I'm in no position to do anything myself. I've stated my case, and that's all I can do. Maker turn his gaze on you,” he muttered, turning back to where he had been resting when they first found him. “... I hope your compassion hasn't _doomed_ us all.”

The Warden bit her lip, holding back a smile that surprised even her. She'd been called many things, but _compassionate_ was a new one.

_Leske's gonna think I've gone soft._

 

* * *

 

Talia awoke to a splitting headache. Several voices washed over her, indistinct at first, but slowly resolving themselves into words and phrases.

_... the circle........ a debt.......... able to repay._

She groaned, trying to burrow into her pillow only to mush her face harder into the cold stone floor beneath. She groaned again, louder this time, bringing notes of alarm to the voices around her.

“Oh, dear, I think she's waking up, now.”

“She's still _alive_?”

 _Of course I'm still alive, you dip,_ she wanted to say, but all that came out was a wordless grumble. She shifted again as she felt a hand brush against her forehead, her eyes cracking open. Vague shadows seemed to dance about before they came into focus.

“... I-Irving? …. Wynne?”

The skin around Irving's eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I knew there was some fight in you yet, child.”

Talia smiled weakly. “I sure showed him, huh? Ugh...” she grunted as she struggled to sit up. Wynne moved to help her, healing spells still flowing as Talia took in her surroundings. A few strangers milled about nearby, a man and a dwarf wearing unfamiliar silver and blue armor, as well as an elf in leather. Beyond them were a handful of other mages, as battered as she was, but thankfully alive. She gasped as she caught sight of what looked like the remains of abominations scattered about the Harrowing Chamber. “... So, it wasn't a dream.”

“Unfortunately not. But, Uldred is no longer a problem, thanks to Wynne and these Grey Wardens.”

Talia looked back over to the group of strangers, or Grey Wardens, apparently, as the dwarf seemed to finish her discussion before stepping forward.

“First Enchanter, I know you're tired, but we may be running out of time. The Knight-Commander said he'll invoke the Right of Annulment unless _you_ tell him yourself that all is well, and we don't know how much longer he's willing to wait.”

“Then I must hurry back.” He turned back to his student. “Talia, my dear, you've only just woken up. Rest here until you've regained your strength.”

“W-what? No, First Enchanter, I should go with y-” A wave of dizziness hit her as she tried to stand, forcing her back down with a thud. “... O-okay,” she conceded, “Maybe I _do_ need some rest.”  
  
One of the Wardens, the tall one, offered to stay behind until he could help her downstairs. Talia watched, propped up to rest against the wall, as the rest went on ahead. The room fell silent as the pair rested.  
  
_“Figures_ Uldred would choose this room out of the entire tower.” She half-muttered to herself after what seemed like an age. “Nothing good ever happens here.”  
  
The young man glanced around. “... This is the Harrowing Chamber, right?”  
  
"Yeah,” she sighed, before looking up at him curiously. “... You know about that?"  
  
He coughed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I, uh... I was in training to be a Templar, before I joined the Wardens."  
  
“Ooh, I see.” She thought about that for a moment, before chuckling. “I was going to say you got lucky, but I guess you ended up involved in this whole mess anyways.”  
  
He laughed as well, shaking his head. “I’m just glad we made it in time.”  
  
“And speaking of time,” she said, grunting as she shifted to stand with his help, “I’d say it’s about time we got out of this room.”  
  
“Sorry if I'm being too rough,” he apologized, bracing her arm over his shoulder. “It's not exactly easy to carry someone gently in all this armor.”  
  
Talia's eyebrows practically flew off her forehead, staring at the young man who was holding her up as if it were nothing. “Rough? Honey, if this is what _rough_ feels like,” she drawled into his ear, a smirk plastered on her face, “You can be rough with _me_ anytime.”  
  
The young man just laughed, a weak, shaky thing that fell silent as they made their way down the stairs from the Harrowing Chamber. She went quiet as well as they moved on to see the aftermath of the chaos that had been wrought through her home, not noticing her escorts ears turning bright red.

* * *

 

“You told me once that I needed to stand up for myself. Well, here I am. I'm standing.” Alistair lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at his partner. “Make _me_ King. Not her.”

The Warden, eyes heavy from exhaustion both physical and mental, looked back up at him with a gaze much softer than his. She never would have thought she'd come to regret _that_ bit of advice, but here they were. “... We both know that's not what you want, Alistair.”

“Don't you tell me what I want! I'm sick of other people telling me what _I_ want!” He slammed his fist into the pillar next to him. “What I _really_ want is Justice! Justice for our fallen Brothers at Ostagar! For _Duncan!_ And... if being King will allow it, then that's what I'll do!”

 _“Hang_ your justice!” the Warden spat, startling Alistair back into the pillar, fire flaring up in her eyes. _“Justice_ won't bring those people back! _Justice_ won't end the Blight! People are _dying_ out there! _More_ people will die! We need all the help we can get, and you want to add one more body to the pile? _Think_ for a moment!”

“I've _been_ thinking! For over a year now, I've thought of nothing but what he did to us, and what we must do in return! I'm _through_ with thinking!”

The Warden lips clamped shut, biting back numerous, too-obvious insulting replies. Instead she closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm herself before opening them again. “... You know how dangerous the joining is, Alistair. If he dies, you'll get your Justice. If he doesn't, we have one more Warden to fight the Blight. He can make up for what he did to this country by protecting it.”

The two of them stared at each other, the rest of the Landsmeet so silent, they had forgotten anyone else was there.

“... I've made my decision.”

Alistair's vision swam as tears threatened to overflow. “A-and here I thought...” Of all people, he thought that his partner, his _friend,_ would understand. He shook his head, blinking his eyes clear before turning to look her square in the eye. _I suppose I've been wrong about a lot of things._

“Here's _my_ decision, then... I'm no longer a Grey Warden. I'm leaving.”

 

* * *

 

Rumors spread far and wide in the days, weeks and months following the great Battle of Denerim.

Stories about the Hero of Ferelden, and how she lead the armies she had gathered against the Darkspawn forces.

Tales about the traitor Loghain, the legendary Hero of River Dane, and how he struck the final blow against the archdemon.

Whispers that the bastard son of old King Maric had been seen boarding a Rivaini ship just days before the final battle. Some said the ship was merely bound for Highever, while others swore on their life it was going toward the Free Marches.

Wild stories and accusations of all kinds were bandied about regarding those who had travelled with the Grey Wardens.

Some said the bard had returned to Orlais to seek out a woman from her past. Others claimed that she had been placed in charge of an expedition to the Deep Roads, searching for darkspawn of fearsome and unknown ability. And others still swore that she had vanished back into the fold of the chantry, only to resurface years later in Val Royeaux as the Left Hand of the Divine.

They say that the witch had fled- her supposed reasons too numerous to be listed here. It became a common practice amongst the children of Denerim to tease their younger siblings with stories about the witch. Wide eyes in rapt horror as they heard how she could change at will, becoming a wolf, spiders, or any other number of increasingly outlandish creatures. A few later claimed to have seen her traveling alone through the Frostback Mountains, possibly with child.

There were murmurs that Loghain had thrown himself wholeheartedly into service to the Grey Wardens. He was placed in charge of recruitment within Ferelden, and thrived in the role. Many claimed that this was due to the Queen's influence, including Loghain himself.

When this particular rumor reached a particularly seedy bar in Starkhaven, a particularly haggard young man swore under his breath, ordered another pint and downed it in one go, before heaving the glass at the wall. The struggle that ensued resulted in 7 shattered glasses, two broken chairs, the destruction of a beloved family heirloom, and a black eye. As he was dragged from the establishment, the man bellowed that he'd battled darkspawn, demons, and dragons, and it would take more than a mere half dozen men to take him down.

Many years later, the old tales would say that of all the Hero's companions, only the assassin stayed by her side. Some say he stayed to help her train Loghain's newly recruited wardens, while others whisper that the two ran off together, traveling to see the rest of what the world had to offer.

Word came from Orzammar that the Assembly had declared the Hero a living paragon, after months of deliberation. The house founded in her name apparently drew so many casteless that the district known as Dust Town was all but empty. No one knew what she'd thought of the statue they'd erected in her likeness, but anyone within 500 feet would get more than an earful about how cute and smart her nephew Endrin was.

All of these stories and more spread far and wide, throughout Ferelden and beyond.

They spread to the Free Marches, where the surviving members of the Hawke family were just starting to settle into the city of Kirkwall.

They spread to Par Vollen, where Sten, both his sword and honor restored, was finally able to deliver his report to the Arishok. When asked about the rumors, he would speak as bluntly and frankly as ever, but the barest hint of a smile would ghost across his face whenever the subject of the Warden came up.

And of course, the stories made their way to the circle at Kinloch Hold.

The templar, Cullen, wasn't one to spread news and gossip. After what had happened, the nervous, gentle young man had turned cold, throwing himself fully into his work. However, reminders of what had happened were everywhere, especially in the face of a certain Mage. So, when he could take it no longer, he went to the Knight-Commander and requested a transfer. He was gone within a fortnight.

Everyone in the circle deal with what  happened in their own way.

As for the mage, Talia Amell, her way wasn't so different from his. As soon as she could, she practically dove headfirst back into her own work, joking and laughing through it all as if nothing had happened. Whether teaching or telling stories to the children, she appeared to be as carefree as always. But the facade would drop in those rare, quiet moments of solitude. Try as she might, moving on wasn't as easy as she wanted it to be. But, when news of the Battle at Denerim came, it did become a little easier.

“I'm glad everything turned out ok,” she said to Jowan one day as he helped her re-shelve books in the library, “But... I still wish I could have gone to help them fight.”

“... Why?” 

She chuckled. “What do you _mean_ , 'why?'” she asked, smirking as she turned to tease her friend, before the sight of the sunburst mark on his forehead cut her off. “I-I… because, _y'know_ ...” she huffed, her hands moving as if they were grasping for the words she was looking for. “I'd... I'd be _dead_ if the Wardens hadn't saved the Circle. I wanted to... I dunno, return the favor.”

He simply stood there, watching her with eyes as empty as they had been the day he'd returned.

“... Nevermind,” she sighed, deflating as she turned back to the task at hand. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go help Dagna.”

Jowan nodded, returning his attention to the pile of unsorted books beside him. Over the last several months, he had heard many people ask her why she continued to spend time with him in this state, and she had never given a straight answer. He did not understand it himself, but had no reason to object.

And on and on the stories spread, all throughout Thedas, ever growing and changing. Regardless of how it spread or what the retellings changed, the story of the Fifth Blight ended when the Warden sank her blade into the Archdemon's head, seemingly destroying it forever.

However, even when one tale ends, the groundwork for others are just being laid...


	2. A Decent Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huddled under an abandoned desk, sound was the only indicator Talia could get of what was going on in the rest of the tower. She cursed under her breath, for once not bothering to censor herself for the three students clinging to her. What had happened out there? What was happening?
> 
> A blast rocked the ground beneath them, and then another. The children whimpered, drawing closer. The youngest had wrapped her arms around her waist, burying her face into her robes.
> 
> Finally, the last of the tremors settled, and all fell silent.

Screams echoed through the hallways of Kinloch Hold, accompanied by the distinct ringing of swords clashing.

Footsteps battered their way across the floors, growing louder and louder only to fade just as quickly.

Wind and thunder roared in the distance, likely the result of spells called on in desperation.

And the steady but rapid _thump, thump, thump_ ing of a heartbeat drowned it all out.

Huddled under an abandoned desk, sound was the only indicator Talia could get of what was going on in the rest of the tower. She cursed under her breath, for once not bothering to censor herself for the three students clinging to her. What had _happened_ out there? What _was_ happening?

A blast rocked the ground beneath them, and then another. The children whimpered, drawing closer. The youngest had wrapped her arms around her waist, burying her face into her robes.

Finally, the last of the tremors settled, and all fell silent.

Talia sagged, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Maybe things were finally settling down.

A sudden _thud_ sounded nearby, and the four of them jolted. Silence, and then another _thud_ , and another.

Talia's breath went ragged as she recognized it- the heavy, deliberate steps of Templar boots.

She prayed silently to any god that would listen that whoever it was wouldn't come near, instinctively pulling the children closer. The footsteps approached slowly, and she bit her lip, eyes squeezed shut. She felt the youngest tighten her grip on her waist, so tight that she couldn't breath. For the best, really. Breathing was too noisy. The footsteps were right on top of them now.

Thud.

_Thud._

**_Thud._ **

**THUD.**

 

 

 

 

Silence.

 

 

 

She waited, trembling, for something, anything to happen.

But nothing did.

 

 

Finally, unable to take the suspense anymore, she opened her eyes.

Birds chirped in the distance as sunlight filtered through the leaves outside to hit her square in the face.

She squinted, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and bringing the craggy ceiling of rock into focus.

 

… _That dream again._

 

She groaned, stretching out the kinks in her back. It had already been six months since the mage rebellion forced her from the tower, yet she still hadn't gotten used to sleeping on the ground. A familiar squeeze around her waist tightened, and she looked down- the one of the children had apparently snuck into bed with her at some point during the night.

The other two, snoring away against one wall of the cave, were old enough to have a streak of independence, but Sorrel was practically a baby, only 8 years old. _Not much older than when I first came to the circle,_ she mused as she stroked the girls hair, mindlessly tucking a stray lock behind one pointed ear.

She slowly sat up, grunting with each pop of her back as she gently extracted herself from the child's grasp. Finally free, she quietly picked her way among the paths toward the mouth of the cave, where a young man was tending to the fire.

“Good morning, Joshua,” she whispered as she crouched next to it.

He nodded in response, poking the crackling logs with a stick to shift one, and she glanced back to check on the others. Three sleeping lumps, and three empty bedrolls.

“... Where’s Rowan?”

“They said they were going out to gather berries.”

Berries? The bushes by the stream, probably. It was unusual for Rowan to go out on their own. “... Maybe I’ll go help them out. It'd be nice to have a decent breakfast for once.”

Joshua turned away from the fire, looking her straight in the eye. “Miss Amell, it’s been 8 days since you sent your message.”

She sighed. So much for some casual small talk. Tranquil never did beat around the bush. “ _Yes_ , I'm aware.”

“If we stay in one place for long, our chances of being discovered by the Templars will increase.”

“Joshua, we're _always_ in danger of being discovered. A group like ours, drawing attention to ourselves, traveling all over the place, is just as much at risk as we would be staying put.” She leaned over, grasping his shoulder. “Right now, it's important for us to remain patient. As long as we're careful, we should be safe until we get a response.”

Joshua nodded again, refocusing his gaze back on the fire. Talia watched him for a while, her hand slowly releasing its grip and falling back by her side. _I suppose he must be worried, or as worried as he can be in this state. I can't really blame him for that._

“Alright,” she groaned as she creaked back up to stand, “I'm gonna head out and see if I can find Rowan. If anyone else shows up, you know what to do.”

He nodded again. “Put out the fire and hide deeper in the cave with the children.”

“Good lad,” she called over her shoulder, grabbing her staff as she emerged from the cave. As dangerous as it was to be seen with one in public, it was more dangerous to go out unarmed. She was lucky that it looked enough like a normal stick that someone who only glanced at it wouldn’t notice, but the crystal nestled among the branches at the top could only stay unnoticed for so long.

 

It wasn’t far to the riverside, and from there it was only a matter of following it until she found the bushes that Rowan had gone to. She took her time, picking her way through until a nearby rustling caught her attention. She paused, waiting until a lone fennec emerged from the longer grass, stopping to sniff at a spot on the ground.

Talia reached for her staff, careful not to alarm the creature as she shifted to aim. With bated breath, she focused her mana, a ball of energy gathering at the tip. She waited for the right moment before releasing it. A fizzle and a soft yelp, and it collapsed.

She grinned. It had taken a lot of practice, but she had finally gotten good enough at hunting to bring meat back to the group with some regularity. She still scared animals off more often than not, but the soft-hearted part of her was glad for it.

 

Fennec in hand, she carried on until she caught sight of her other companion in the distance. “Hey, Rowan!” she called, waving her kill in the air like a trophy and grinning ear to ear. “Lookit what I found!”

Rowan looked up, shifting their grip on their basket as Talia approached. “... A fennec. That will make a substantial addition to our meal today.”

Talia chuckled, tying it onto her belt to free her hands. “You need any help with the berries?”

They seemed to consider this before nodding. “Collecting will go faster with two people.”

Talia searched through the bushes before finding one that hadn't been stripped bare yet. “I'm surprised, Rowan,” she mused aloud as she plopped a handful into the basket that sat between them, “You don't usually go out on your own. What made you decide to go pick berries today?”

“You asked me to help you care for the children.”

Talia continued to pluck berries in silence, waiting for them to elaborate, but nothing followed. She sighed. Sometimes they needed to be reminded that even if their meaning was obvious to _them_ , it wasn't always obvious to everyone else. “... Yeah?”

“... Our food is running low, and we've only had stew for our last few meals. Variety in nutrition is an important part of child development.”

“Ah, I see.” She mulled this over, absently popping a couple berries in her mouth as she went over her bush. “Well, I know this will make the kids happy. Thanks, Rowan.”

“You're welcome.”

  

The two continued to work in silence. Most people found the way the Tranquil behaved unsettling, and Talia couldn't deny getting flashes of that herself on occasion. But, she had learned over the years that, if one stopped expecting the impossible from them, they actually made good company. Not for conversation, of course, but for that comfortable silence. There was something almost freeing about it, not feeling obligated to fill the silence with small talk or banter.

Before they knew, it they had gathered more than enough berries for everyone to get their fill. Talia lead the way back the way she had come, Rowan following her along the river. They had come within sight of the cave when the sound of voices stopped them in their tracks.

“... was just extinguished. Whoever started this fire may still be nearby.”

Talia and Rowan looked at each other, Talia’s eyes wide in alarm, Rowan’s face the same emotionless void as ever. They nodded before turning back to the entrance of the cave, approaching carefully. More voices followed, growing clearer and louder as they came near.  
  
“.... Maybe it’s just travelers.

“No, if what we’ve heard is correct, they should be out this way.”

“What should we do, then?”  
  
“Well, we followed the trail this far. Might as well check the cave, see if there’s any other clues.”

 _'Trail'? Did I leave something behind that they could have followed? But I've been so careful!_ Her mind raced for anything she might have done to clue them in before she shook her head. Figuring out where they’d gone wrong could wait until later, after she dealt with this.

If there _was_ a later.

A rattle of armor shifting sent her heart surging into her throat, her breath going shallow. She tried not to think about the dream she'd had that morning as she caught Rowan’s eye, leaning over to whisper. “Stay back here. If something happens to me, _run_.”

They nodded, stepping back, and Talia took a deep breath, reaching for her staff- her hands shook as she adjusted her grip, knuckles turning white. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she had counted 4 different voices, none of them familiar. She was confident she could take one, _maybe_ two Templars, but four?

Well.

It wasn’t like she had any choice.

 


	3. The Warden's Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elf slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, right, right! The ritual! Shemlen- ah, humans always do a ritual when meeting for the first time. What did Josephine call it... the shaking of the hands?” She looked at her right hand uncertainly, before sticking her whole arm out stick straight in front of her, brow set as she met his perplexed gaze with a determined gleam in her eye. “Nice to meet you, Ser! My name is Aster!”
> 
> Absolutely befuddled, he slowly reached up and gingerly took the proffered hand. “Uhhh... N-nice to meet you... too?” She didn't seem to know what to do next, still staring up at him, so he delicately moved his up and down. “...I'm Alistair.”

No matter what he did, or how much he drank, it didn't stop. It _never_ stopped.

The Song.

It was always there. When he was awake, there it was. Like an itch he couldn't scratch, only inside his head. And when he slept, it grew louder, the incidental music to the theatrical productions his dreams produced, somehow more horrifying and gruesome than any dream he had during the blight itself.

Work helped, sometimes. The local chanters board usually had one or two menial tasks to help him pick up a little extra coin and keep him busy. Extra help needed on a local farm before the harvest. Fix an elderly man's broken window. Bear attacks. Do something.

When the song got too loud, he would close his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. An old templar exercise he hadn't appreciated in his youth. _In_ , and _out_ , _in_ , and _out_ , again and again, until he could push it into a corner of his consciousness.

And when that didn't work, he'd go to the tavern and drink himself stupid.

Sure, it was messy, but it hadn't let him down yet.

He was halfway through this particular process when a voice asserted itself through the haze of alcohol and Song clouding his mind.

“... y'know, I heard he used to be a _templar._ ”

He groaned. Maker, not _this_ again.

“Really? What's he doing around _here_? Doesn't he know his kind's not wanted?”

He couldn't help snorting at that. Of _course_ he knew he wasn't wanted. When had he _ever_ been?

“That's right, Redcliffe's supposed to be a sanctuary for the Mages!”

“Maybe he's a spy. Once a templar, always a templar, that's what _I_ say.”

Always the same conversation.

“We should say something.”

And there it was, like clockwork. He began to count down mentally. _Three..._

“Hey, bartender...”

_Two..._

"What are you doing..."

_One..._

“... letting the likes of _'im-_ ”

BANG.

He smirked into his beer. _Zero._

“Whoa, what's the big ide-”

“ _Don't you know who that_ _ **is**_ _?”_

There were some vague murmurs, but no one seemed to have a clear answer. He risked glancing over- the bartender, a woman in her mid-thirties with red hair tied back into a loose bun, had slammed the handle of the broom she had been using into the counter, fury burning bright in her eyes as she stared down the three mages cowering before her.

“Well, _I'll_ tell you. If it weren't for _him_ and the Hero of Ferelden, there wouldn't _be_ a Tavern, let alone a _Redcliffe_ for you lot to mope about in! And I won't have you, or anyone else say a word against him! Is that understood?”

The mages in question nodded meekly, and she set the broom back down in its normal position.

“Now, I suggest you pay your bill and leave. You've had _more_ than enough today.”

They hurriedly threw down some coin and left so fast, he could have sworn they left 3 mage-shaped clouds of dust behind them. The bartender spat in disgust, snatching up their dirty mugs and plunging them into a vat of sudsy water, scrubbing at them furiously.

“... Thanks for that, Bella.”

She huffed. “No need for _that,_ Ser. Anyone here with a lick of sense or memory would do the same.” 

“I keep telling telling you, there's no need for 'Ser' anything. Just plain Alistair's fine.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “... You trying to tell me what to do in my own tavern?”

He laughed weakly. “No, ma'am, never. Wouldn't dream of it.”

“ _Good_.” Her attention returned to scrubbing the mugs into oblivion.

“... Those mages are gonna _talk_ , you know.”

“What, like I care? No other tavern in town. _They_ should be worried about getting on _my_ bad side.” She grunted, scrubbing harder. “I’ll serve who I like, and I don’t need anyone telling me how to run _my_ business.”

“Well, glad to hear it.” He threw his head back to drain what remained of his drink. “Now, I don't s'ppose I could get another drink when you have the time?”

She hesitated- _that_ was rare- chewing her lip as she dried off one of the mugs. “... I think I'm gonna have to cut you off here tonight.”

“What? I've barely had _two,_ I haven't even-”

“It's not you, its your _tab.”_

Ah. _That_.

She sighed, watching him deflate. “I know, I know, it's been tough since the Chanters board was taken down. There’s _always_ a place for you here, Alistair, I owe you that much, but I've got a family to feed. There's only so much I can do.”

Alistair grunted, and Bella left him to his sulking, moving down the bar to tend other patrons. Customers who _had_ money, he assumed. He groaned, rubbing his temple. _I suppose I can't blame her. It's more than I deserve to have a room here for as cheap as she's letting it._ With no one else to blame, he glared at the mug he'd just finished off. It sat there, doing nothing. Empty. _Taunting_ him. His eyes narrowed. Stupid mug. Why couldn't it just fill itself? Why was it so useless? He'd never hated a piece of glassware more than he hated this mug in particular.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the Song itched louder.

“Excuse me, miss, what was all that about earlier?”

“What, that lot hassling poor Alistair?” His ear picked up the nearby conversation involuntarily, seeking out anything to distract him. He shrugged, watching out of the corner of his eye.

Bella had assumed the Standard Bartender Gossip position, drying a mug as she seemed to stare off into the distance. “Lad was shipped off to the Templars as a boy, but he was recruited by the Grey Wardens before he finished his training.” She shook her head. “Suuure, he helped end the Blight ten years ago, not to _mention_ saving this village, but _apparently_ that doesn't matter. Soon as these mages hear he was a Templar, though? _Pssshht._ ” She set the glass down amongst the other clean ones with a soft _tap_. “Can't tell you how many times I've had to cut _that_ discussion short.”

The customer, Dalish by the look of her tattoos, glanced over at him, brow furrowed. “... So, if they treat him like that, why does he stay?”

Bella shrugged. “Why don't you ask him yourself? Lad's got a mouth, and I promise, he's not afraid to use it once you get him going.”

He couldn't help laughing at that. “Y'know, Bella,” he called over, chin rested squarely in the palm of his hand, “I really, _truly_ don't mind you talking about me like I'm not here, and I certainly don't care about the absolute _slander_ on my character, but... could you stop calling me 'Lad'?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll do what I want in my own establishment, my good lad!”

“Bellaaaa,” he groaned, “We're the _same age._ ”

The elf ignored their bickering, leaning over to murmur something to her companions before quietly slipping out of her seat and into the one next to him.

Alistair's side of the conversation tapered off as his new companion drew his attention, more than a little wary. The two gazed at each other, quietly, for what seemed like far to long for either's comfort.

Just as he was about to break the silence, the elf slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, right, right! The ritual! Shemlen- ah, _humans_ always do a ritual when meeting for the first time. What did Josephine call it... the shaking of the hands?” She looked at her right hand uncertainly, before sticking her whole arm out stick straight in front of her, brow set as she met his perplexed gaze with a determined gleam in her eye. “Nice to meet you, Ser! My name is Aster!”

Absolutely befuddled, he slowly reached up and gingerly took the proffered hand. “Uhhh... N-nice to meet you... too?” She didn't seem to know what to do next, still staring up at him, so he delicately moved his up and down. “...I'm Alistair.” 

 

She seemed satisfied by this, letting go of his hand. “I'm _so_ sorry, Alistair, I'm still getting used to all of this. Did I do that right?”

He looked her over- she certainly didn't _seem_ dangerous- before shrugging. “I'd say you were... uh, close enough?”

“Ok! Well, then, as I was asking the bartender before,” she continued, hands folded neatly in her lap. “Why would you, a former Templar, want to be here, where everyone hates Templars?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he turned back toward the bar. “Maker, you don't waste _any_ time, do you? Buy me a drink first, at least!”

“O-oh, is that standard protocol?” She turned away before he could protest he was only joking, pointing at him while she mouthed something at her friends. One nodded, while the others mouthed something back that he couldn't have deciphered to save his life. Satisfied with their response, she called Bella back over, and before he knew it, there was a fresh mug of beer in front of him.

She stared up at him, wide eyed and expectant.

He looked at her.

Then at the beer.

Then back to her.

To the beer again.

“I, uh…” He swallowed nervously. “What was the question again?”

“Why are you here, if the mages hate you for being a templar?”

_… I'm a weak, weak man._

“Well,” he began, grasping the mugs handle, “Bella's as good a landlord as any. And, uh, Redcliffe's about the closest thing I have to a home.” She started to ask another question, but he cut her off by taking a long, hearty swig, relief flooding through him as the liquid made its way down his throat. She watched in fascination as the entire mug seemed to drain into oblivion.

He sighed happily as the last droplets vanished, setting the mug down with a satisfying _thunk_.

“... You grew up here, then?”

He nodded. “ _Before_ I got shipped off to the chantry, yes.”

“And how long was _that?”_

“Oh, I dunno... eight, maybe nine years?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

He scoffed, running his fingers back through his hair. “I think I'm gonna need another drink before I get into that.”

She happily obliged him, and thus continued peppering him with question after question. He answered dutifully- he wasn't exactly _happy_ to get accosted by what appeared to be a wide-eyed teenager, but he wasn't about to turn down free drinks. And he had to admit, it was a welcome distraction. Several rounds of questions and drinks later, she started on a new line of questioning.

“Now, the bartender there-”

“Bella.” He interjected.

“Bella, yes. She said something about you _saving_ Redcliffe?”

“Ugh, well, y'know, it was _sooo_ long ago... skeleton attacks all blur together after a while, y'know?”

“The Hero of Ferelden was there, right?”

His mouth clamped shut, but she continued on unperturbed.

"You knew her?" 

He snorted. “... I _thought_ I knew her.”

She sat there patiently, waiting for him to clarify.

He sighed. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“... O-oh, of course! I understand, sorry. _So_ , umm... you’re a Grey Warden, then, right?” 

“ _Former_ grey warden.”

Her eyebrows shot up at that. “ _Former_ _?_ Oh, goodness...” She traced her finger absently along her own glass, doodling something in the condensation. “I was under the impression that leaving the Wardens isn’t very easy.”

“Well no, it isn't, but...” He trailed off, turning slowly to examine the woman next to him. She simply stared back, head quirking slightly to the side. “... Why are you asking so many questions? Who _are_ you?”

A thought dawned on him, somehow, _miraculously_ really, given the effect the combination of alcohol and that infernal _S_ _ong_ had on him. “Did they send you from Weisshaupt?” It wouldn’t have been the first time. The Wardens hadn’t exactly been happy to just let one of their own up and leave all those years ago.

She seemed surprised by this. “What? No! No, I-I’m not with the Wardens. Although, I’d certainly like to know where they’ve _gone_. I don't suppose _you_ would know, being a 'former' Warden.”

He started at that. “‘Gone’? Wait, what do you mean, ‘where they’ve gone’?”

She blinked up at him. “... You haven’t heard? Apparently, nearly all of the Grey Wardens have vanished.”

“Vanished…?”

“Gone. Disappeared.” She sighed. “No one has seen hide nor hair of almost any Warden in _months_ , now. Got a lot of us all worried, you know.”

His head swam. All the Wardens, gone? First the Mage-Templar war, then a blasted hole in the sky, now this? “Well,” he sputtered, “I-if you’re not with the Wardens, then... who _are_ you with?”

“What, I didn't mention? Oh gracious me, so sorry, I can't believe I forgot.” She sat herself up a little straighter, pointing to the sunburst-wreathed eye she had pinned to her shawl.

“... I'm with the Inquisition.” 


	4. An Ever Increasing Number of Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The owners of the voices she'd heard froze where they were- one crouched by the fire while the other three stood nearby, mid-discussion. To her relief, Joshua and the kids seemed to have disappeared into the depths of the cave like she’d told them to.
> 
> She took this moment of silence to look them over more thoroughly- the human woman's heraldry was chantry-related, but not Templar. The others, a dwarf and two elves- both mages she noted upon seeing their staves- weren’t wearing heavy armor like the woman's, but a mix of leather armor and what appeared to be their everyday clothing.
> 
> “... Well,” she practically sighed the word, failing to hide the relief in her voice, “You don’t LOOK like templars.”

  
“Nobody move.”

Talia stood in the mouth of the cave, fierce eyes and staff fixed together on the nearest individual. She was trying her best to look intimidating, her back straight and her jaw set.

The owners of the voices she'd heard froze where they were- one crouched by the fire while the other three stood nearby, mid-discussion. To her relief, Joshua and the kids seemed to have disappeared into the depths of the cave like she’d told them to.

She took this moment of silence to look them over more thoroughly- the human woman's heraldry _was_ chantry-related, but not Templar. The others, a dwarf and two elves- _both mages_ she noted upon seeing their staves- weren’t wearing heavy armor like the woman's, but a mix of leather armor and what appeared to be their everyday clothing.

“... _Well_ ,” she practically sighed the word, failing to hide the relief in her voice, “You don’t _look_ like templars.”

One of them, the dwarf, laughed at that. “Well, I certainly _hope_ not.”

She lowered her staff, the tension draining as the intruders allowed themselves to move again.

“ _But_ ,” she continued, her gaze sweeping across the group, “That _still_ leaves the question of why you’re all snooping through my campsite.”

“O-oh goodness!” One of the elves, the shorter of the two, clapped her hands to her mouth in apparent horror. “I didn’t even _think_! Of _course_ it’s rude to just walk into a human’s living area uninvited!” She hesitated a moment before glancing over to her companions. “... right?”

The armored woman groaned quietly while the dwarf let out another hearty laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s considered rude for damn near _everyone_ , Greenie, not _just_ humans.”

“O-oh, right.” The one called ‘Greenie’ blushed, her head dipping in embarrassment.

Talia snorted, a confused smile spreading on her face. “You still haven't answered my question, Miss Greenie.”

She jumped at that, head snapping back up. “R-right! Uh, w-we received a message a few days ago...” She paused, fiddling with a leaf she had picked up Maker knew when, “I think part of it was lost on its way to us, but there was enough information for us to find this cave, and we thought it would be best to investigate.”

“A message...? _Wait_.” Her head swam as she finally put the pieces together. “... Are you from the Inquisition?”

The human nodded. “We are.”

“Then….” Talia looked them over, one by one, before her eyes landed back on the smaller elf. “... You’re _her_ , aren’t you? The one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste?”

The girl's weak laugh quickly dovetailed into a heavy sigh, shoulder sagging. “Y-yes, that would be me... but I _truly_ wish they would stop.”

The armored woman interrupted, stepping forward. “We've answered your questions, now it's _our_ turn. Why did you call us here?”

“Right, right, my message... alright, let me explain.” She paused to collect her thoughts, only to freeze, her eyes practically popping out of her head. The others, confused, followed her gaze, toward what they'd thought was the back of the cave, to find a pair of green eyes peeking around a corner.

They all stared, and the eyes stared back. One could have heard a pin drop until Talia broke the silence.

“ _Sorrel!_ ” She hissed, dropping her staff as she rushed over. “You're supposed to stay with Joshua and the others!”

“I _know_ , I’m sorry, but,” they could hear the pout in the girls voice, “I'm _hungry_ , and Joshua said you and Rowan were out looking for food.”

Talia groaned, her face sinking into her hands. _Well_ , she thought, _we're probably not in any danger from this Inquisition, but so much for **leading up** to ‘Hey, by the way, I have several Unharrowed Mage children and Tranquil with me who need sanctuary’._

“Alright, well, you might as well come out. Go get the others.” She turned back toward the mouth of the cave. “Rowan, you can come out too.”

Sorrel vanished around the corner, and the armored woman turned her gaze back onto Talia, who could feel herself melt under the perceived heat. “So, I can imagine you all have _many_ questions.”

“An _ever increasing_ number of questions.”

“Right. Do you... terribly mind asking them over breakfast? I've made the children wait long enough.”

The woman's protests were interrupted by Sorrel returning with Joshua and the other children, shortly followed by Rowan quietly slipping inside, having extracted themself from the bush they’d been hiding in. Having so many expectant and hungry eyes staring up at her, including, Talia noticed, the Herald's, she finally relented.

The Herald squealed, pattering over to the fire and sitting down next to Sorrel. “ _Aneth ara, da’len!_ ” She cooed, bending forward to meet her at eye level and flashing the biggest, toothiest smile.

Sorrel blinked in confusion. “Uhm… h-hello?”

“She doesn’t speak elvish, miss,” Samantha, the oldest, chimed in as she took her own seat.

“Oh? Oh! I see. I’m sorry, little one.” Her smile faded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen an elven child, and, well... I forgot where I was.”

Sorrel seemed to ignore this, instead choosing to stare at the Herald’s forehead. “... I like your tattoos.”

“Hmm? My _Vallaslin_?”

“Did they hurt?”

“They did, but only a little.” The Herald grinned. “You can touch them if you want.”

Sorrel nodded, and Talia sighed, a relieved smile spreading over her face. So many rumors had spread about this Inquisition, but no one had mentioned that this Herald of theirs seemed to love kids.

_Maybe we'll have a chance._

She turned her attention back to the other guests. “Please, help yourselves and I'll explain everything.”

It was certainly a livelier breakfast than usual. The tranquil weren't exactly the best conversationalists, and the children usually ate as quickly as possible so they could return to whatever they were doing. It wasn't much, but what little they had went around as the dwarf told a story to the little ones. Talia had to scold one of them when he asked why the taller elf was bald. Introductions went around at some point, and then when everyone had enough to eat, she told them their story.

About the wave of chaos that rocked Kinloch Hold after the circle had voted for independence. How she'd had to hide with the class of apprentices she'd been with. How, upon emerging, they'd found the tower abandoned, save for several Tranquil carelessly left behind. How the group had come together, camping, wandering, barely escaping Templar detection several times over. It had been like an adventure to her, who'd been cooped up in the tower most of her life.

“At least, that's how it was until the conclave.” She sighed, absently stirring whatever dregs of food were left in her bowl. “Now there's _demons_ everywhere, and the fighting with the Templars just got worse since everyone's pointing fingers. It's near impossible getting anywhere safely the way things are. So, when I heard about the Inquisition, I thought... rather than hide out here until we die, from either exposure or Templars, I should do something _useful_ for once.”

The human woman, Cassandra, seemed to need a few moments to take this all in. “So… you decided to send us this message.”

“Yes.” She sighed, running her fingers back through her hair. “... I would have just... _gone to Haven_ if I were by myself, but with this large a group, it's near impossible to travel without running into trouble. I wasn't about to abandon them. So I took a gamble and hoped you would come to me.” She smiled, sitting up. “I'm glad you did.”

The Herald, or Aster Lavellan, as she'd called herself, spoke up for the first time during the whole tale. “You want to help us then? How?”

Talia seemed taken aback at this. “I uh….” she coughed, before laughing weakly. “Oh, dear, I didn’t actually think _that_ part through, did I? I mean, I guess I can fight...”

Aster chuckled, just as amused as she was incredulous. “You guess?”

“I mean, I'm not exactly a _warrior_ , but I’ve done what I had to to keep all of us alive when an entire Highly Trained Religious Army wants you dead. But,” she continued as a thought dawned on her, “I was trained by some of the best healers in the circle. You'll need healers, right? If you’ve any more mages in the Inquisition, I can train them too.”

Samantha chose this moment to pipe up. “Miss Talia’s a _very_ good teacher.”

The boy next to her chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, and she gives us sweets when we do well!”

Talia chuckled, her teeth gritted as she jokingly clapped a hand over the boys mouth. “Justin, you _know_ that was a secret.”

The laughter in his voice could still be heard though her hand. “What? It‘s not like there’s any Templars around to punish us.”

Aster nodded, thoughtful. “So, you can lend us your healing skills and help with training mages.” She glanced over at the children beside her. “... What about _them_?”

Talia set her jaw, looking Aster Lavellan- no, The Herald of Andraste square in the eye. “I've taken responsibility for these people, and I'm not one to take responsibilities lightly. The way I see it, we can help each other. _You,_ let's be fair, need _all_ the help you can get, and _I_ need someplace safe for them.”

Cassandra shook her head. “The Inquisition is an _army_ , Miss Amell. It not exactly an appropriate place for children. Surely we can find someplace more suitable- perhaps with the mages in Redcliffe?”

“The children don’t want to leave me, after all we've been through. Not to mention, I'm afraid if they go to Redcliffe, Joshua and Rowan will just be forgotten again, like they were in the circle. I can't leave _any_ of them. I _won't_.”

The Herald seemed to think this over for a while, before glancing between her companions. “... I honestly don't see what harm it would do.”

Varric nodded. “There's already plenty of refugees flocking to Haven, what's a few more?”

This seemed to decide it, and the Herald stood, extending her hand with a smile so bright it could have blinded someone. “Then it's decided. Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Talia stood, but hesitated for a moment. “... You said you don’t like being called the Herald of Andraste, correct?”

The Herald groaned again. “By the dread wolf’s disgusting, matted arse-fur, _no_ , I don't!”

Talia smirked, noticing the other elf’s ear twitch- what’d he say his name was, Solas? She shrugged. Maybe most Elves took offense to their gods names being being taken in vain. “So, what _should_ I call you, then?”

The Herald smiled. “Just Aster is fine.”

“Well then, _just_ Aster,” she said, taking her hand and shaking it with a firm grin, “I'm ready whenever you are.”


	5. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair blinked. “The Inquisition, huh… well, that's, uh, unexpected, certainly... So...” He looked the elf over once more. He’d heard the rumors, of course, but this couldn’t be… 
> 
> “... you wouldn’t happen to be that Herald of Andraste I keep hearing about?”
> 
> She chuckled, or at least tried to before groaning. “Yes, well, that’s what they keep calling me, anyways. Despite me asking them not to.” She shrugged, pausing to sip her beer before glancing back over at him. “... Well, I’m glad you at least crawled out of that bottle long enough to hear of me.”

Alistair blinked. “The Inquisition, huh… well, that's, uh, _unexpected_ , certainly... So...” He looked the elf over once more. He’d heard the rumors, of course, but this couldn’t be… 

“... you wouldn’t happen to be that Herald of Andraste I keep hearing about?”

She chuckled, or at least tried to before groaning. “Yes, well, that’s what they keep _calling_ me, anyways. Despite me asking them not to.” She shrugged, pausing to sip her drink before glancing back over at him. “... Well, I’m glad you at least crawled out of that bottle long enough to hear of me.”

He elected to ignored that comment, focusing on the matter at hand. “... What’s the Inquisition want with _me_?”

“A couple of things, actually. What I said earlier, about the Wardens vanishing? You, being at least  _kind of_ a Warden, might be able to help us track them down.”

“That’s _one_ reason. And the other?”

“… An old friend of yours asked me to look you up. Said you’ve been ‘moping about long enough’.”

An old friend? He couldn’t think of anyone outside maybe two people in Redcliffe he’d consider a friend. He hadn’t exactly _made_ any during his time in the Free Marches, and it _certainly_ couldn’t be anyone from his time with the Wardens… Right?

He sighed. Even if any of them were worried about him, he had burned that bridge as thoroughly as anyone could have.

Aster swirled her drink in its glass as she watched him consider all this. “... It's probably none of my business, but… are you _happy_ like this? Moping around this tavern, drinking yourself stupid?”

He scoffed. “‘Course I’m not _happy_ , but it’s better ‘n the alternative. What else am I s’pposed to do?”

“You could come work for the Inquisition.”

The laughter that followed came out more like a bark, almost sending Aster falling backwards out of her chair in surprise. “Is _that_ why you’re here? You’re wasting your time, Herald. Even if I do join up, I don’t have much time left. I’m _worse_ than useless to you.”

She blinked rapidly, confused. “Not much _time_ left…?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it, it’s a Warden thing. Thanks for the drinks, anyway.”

“Oh, is _that_ all? Hold on.” She turned around, waving at one of her friends. “Blackwall, can you help me out here?”

Any protests Alistair had died on his lips. … _Blackwall?_ Where had he heard that name before?

An older man stood up and walked over, and Alistair stomach dropped like a stone at the sight of the tell-tale blue and silver armor. He could have kicked himself for not noticing earlier. _How could I have missed that? And where have I heard that name?_

It came him as the man called Blackwall stood beside Aster- no, _the_ _Herald_ \- giving them both a curt nod. A memory from what felt like ages ago.

“Warden Blackwall… m-my mentor, Duncan, he, uh… h-he spoke of you.”

Blackwall seemed to think for a moment. “Duncan... of course!” A smile crinkled the skin around his eyes, and he liked him immediately. “Good man.”

“Blackwall,” Aster interrupted, “Alistair here says that hes 'running out of time', but he can’t talk about it cause it’s a Warden thing. Can you help me out?”

Blackwall seemed to look him over before shaking his head. “Don’t think it’s any of my business, Miss. Seems like it’s up to him whether or not _he_ wants to explain.”

Warden or not, this man had been Duncan’s friend. If he could trust anyone about this, it was him.

Alistair hunched over instinctively, hugging himself and scratching nervously at his arms. “... I’ve… that is, uh…” he sighed heavily. “... I started hearing the Calling a few weeks ago.”

Blackwall let out a soft ‘ _hrrmm_ ’, while the Herald just glanced between the two. “The Calling...? What is that?”

Alistair looked up and caught Blackwalls eye, but the older man simply raised his eyebrows, nodding at him. Right.

“... The Grey Wardens aren’t what they are just because they’re good at fighting. They’re… connected to the Darkspawn, somehow. Although the taint doesn’t have an affect at first, eventually that connection poisons you… and that’s when you begin to hear it.” He paused, eyes unfocused as he clenched his teeth.

“... Hear it? Hear what?”

“... The song. It… _calls_ to you, somehow.”

Aster slapped a hand to her face, making both men jump. “Ooohh, _that’s_ why it’s called the Calling!” She paused, seeing the look both men gave her, and shrinking down further into her seat. “S-sorry, sorry, I’ll be quiet now.”

Alistair gave a hollow laugh. “No, no, that’s ok. As I was saying, once you hear the song, that’s how you know there’s not much time left. Most Wardens, at that point, say ‘Farewell’ and go off into the Deep Roads to die fighting.” He scoffed, taking another swig of beer. “... In Death, Sacrifice.”

“Most Wardens… but not you?”

He shook his head. “I left that behind a long time ago.”

Aster mulled this over, swirling the remains of her drink around in her glass. “So, basically… you’re dying. And _this_ is how you’re spending your last moments?”

Alistair only stared into his mug, glowering at his own reflection. Aster huffed, tweaking her nose nervously before looking over to Blackwall, eyes pleading. He thought for a moment, before taking the other seat next to the boy, leaning over to look him in the face the best he could.

“... Look, your time is just that- _yours_. It's not my place to judge you for how you choose to spend it. But, is _this_ how you want to go? Crawling into a bottle, waiting for the end to come?”

Alistair's vision swam, that hot pressure building up behind his eyes. No, he didn't want that. Of _course_ he didn't. He had wanted to do something meaningful with his life, or at least to have to have some _choice_ in how his life played out. And he'd gone and wasted it. He'd spent the last ten years like _this,_ and now it was too late to do anything else.

“Come work for the Inquisition. Spend your last days doing something _worthwhile_ , instead of crying into your beer.” He made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a grunt, clapping the younger man on the back. “Besides, it dilutes the beer.”

Alistair let out a sort of choking laugh, wiping at his eyes before taking a deep breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Really... what did he have to lose? 

“If you like, I can sweeten the deal.” Aster's voice brought his gaze back down to her. “I’ll pay off your tab here, give you a wage, even. In exchange, you can come work with us.” She held out her hand again. “Deal?”

Well, that was a difficult offer to pass up. He looked at her hand, then back up to her.

“... Last time I was in Haven there was a crazy dragon cult trying to kill us. Is that still a thing, or...?”

She laughed. “No, there’s no more crazy dragon cults, last I checked.” She shifted in her seat, a surprisingly wry grin spread on her youthful face. “... Just a bunch of weirdos who think a Dalish Elf is the _Herald of Andraste_.”

He chuckled, the hint of a genuine smile finally peaking through. “Well as long as that’s all I have to deal with…” He took her hand for the second time that day, this time giving it a firm shake. “... Where do I sign up?”


	6. Another Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are your accommodations to your liking, Miss Amell? There’s only so much we can do, but if we can make things more comfortable, especially for the children...”
> 
> Talia laughed. “Believe me, Ambassador, anything is better than sleeping in that cave one more night. As long as we’re warm and have enough beds for everyone, that’s enough.”

“Are your accommodations to your liking, Miss Amell? There’s only so much we can do, but if we can make things more comfortable, especially for the children...”

Talia laughed. “Believe me, Ambassador, anything is better than sleeping in that cave one more night. As long as we’re warm and have enough beds for everyone, that’s enough.”

Josephine marked something down on her clipboard as Leliana finally stopped circling the newcomer, an unreadable smile on her face. “You and your group survived in the wilderness for six months, correct? I must say, I’m impressed.”

“ _Well_ , I mean,” Talia said with a shrug, “It wasn’t _only_ the wilderness. Sometimes we’d find a tavern willing to put us up for a night. It was a little _too_ risky most of the time, though. Rowan and Joshua’s sunburst marks tended to give us away.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here with us now. However, we should let the Herald continue her tour.”

Talia smiled. “I appreciate it. And again, it’s very nice meeting you both,” she said, half-bowing before following Aster out of the office.

Aster glanced back at the door closing behind them before she looked back up at Talia. “Yes, so, uh, like I said, those two are the Inquisition’s Ambassador and Spymaster.”

“They seem very kind, but they _are_ a little…” Talia hesitated, air hissing through her teeth as she tried to think of the right word. “... _Intimidating_.”

Aster chuckled, shaking her head. _“Everyone’s_ intimidating when they’re all taller than you.”

Talia smirked at that. “That doesn’t leave a lot of people, does it? Only Varric, I think.”

“Oh, he’s intimidating too! Just for different reasons.”

She jumped as Talia burst out laughing, before crossing her arms over her chest, obviously trying not to smile. “Ok, ok, we can laugh at me _later_. Come on, we’re almost done with the grand tour.” She turned to lead her toward the back of the building, stopping in front of the largest door.

“So, this room here is the war room. We usually hold meetings here to plan-“ She was interrupted by the door in question creaking open. The man who exited barely glanced up from the stack of papers he was holding.

“Ah, Herald, you're back. Good, I’d like you to look at this-” He finally looked up, and froze dead in his tracks as he noticed her companion.

Talia’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes met, stumbling to a stop behind Aster. _She_ didn’t seem to notice this, greeting the man with a warm smile.

“Oh right, you two haven't met yet! Commander, this is Talia Amell. She'll be working with us starting today. Talia, this is the Inquisition's Commander-”

“ _Cullen?_ ”

Aster skid to a halt mid-sentence, glancing back and forth between the two. “Oh... you two... _know_ each other, then?”

Cullen attempted to stutter a reply, but was unable to get an entire _word_ out, let alone a _sentence_. “I-I... I, um... th-that is, uh, I, er…”

Talia recovered much more quickly, managing an easygoing smile. “Yes, he, uh, was stationed in the Ferelden circle a number of years ago.”

“Oh, is that so?” She turned back to the bewildered man in the doorway. “That's right, you're _from_ Ferelden, aren't you, Commander?”

Cullen’s condition had not improved, the color draining from his face. “I-I, uh...” He finally paused as he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he refocused his attention on Aster. “Y… yes, Herald, I, uh... grew up in Honnleath. _I-in_ Ferelden.”

“Well, that’s great then! I was just about done giving the tour, anyways, perhaps I should let you two catch up?”

Cullen moved as if to speak, but Talia jumped in before he could. “Oh, _no,_ I’m _sure_ the Commander’s busy. We can catch up another time! Besides, you wanted to show me where I’ll be staying with the others, correct?”

“Oh, yes of course!” Aster paused, glancing warily between the two. “...Are you sure? I really don’t mind coming back later.”

Talia nodded. “I-I’m just tired after the long journey. It’s fine.”

Aster seemed to scrutinize her carefully, before nodding. “Very well, another time then.” She turned back to the Commander, who . “My apologies, Commander. If it’s not an emergency, those papers will have to wait.”

He nodded stiffly, before cautiously glancing back over to Talia. “Of course. A… a-another time.” And with that the pair took their leave.

What was supposed to be a short walk felt like a marathon. It seemed like they were stopped every other step, meeting yet _another_ person Aster just _had_ to introduce to Talia. Everyone quickly blurred together- she had already met Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, but Vivienne, Blackwall, and Sera barely managed to register, her head swimming.

Finally, after what felt like ages, they arrived, finding Rowan examining what was left of a flower box on one of the windows. “Joshua and the children left to explore the village,” they informed her when asked, adding without prompting, “The flowers that were here are dead, but this could be repurposed for growing medicinal herbs.” They never once took their eyes from the box.

Talia sighed, patting them softly on the back. “Thank you, Rowan.” They nodded as the two mages entered the cottage.

“Thank you again for the tour, Herald,” she grunted as she plopped herself down on one of the beds.

“Please, again, just Aster is fine.”

“Of course, sorry!” She grinned, chuckling sheepishly. “Thank you, Aster.”

“You’re welcome.” Aster hesitated at the door, before turning back. “... This _may_ not be my place to say, but… if you have any problems with, uh… well, _anyone_ in the Inquisition, you can come talk to me if you need to.” She tried to smile, but the result came out rather forced. “Okay?”

Talia nodded. “Okay. Really, I _do_ appreciate it.”

Aster smiled, a real one this time, before gently closing the door behind her. Talia groaned as soon as the coast was clear, falling backward, asleep before her head even hit the pillow _._

* * *

 

_“_ **_Easy_ ** _now,” the young man urged with a chuckle. “I understand the rush, but just think. It’d be_ **_so_ ** _embarrassing if you made it through a_ **_literal_ ** _demon onslaught, only to die falling down the stairs.”_

_“Right, right, I’m sorry, Ser.” She sighed. “I’m just worried, is all.”_

_“All you’ve been through, and you’re worried about everyone else?” He shook his head, smiling as they hit the last step. “Well, good news is we’re back on the ground floor now.” He craned his neck to get a better look around. “At least, I_ **_think_ ** _we are. These floors all look the same, I don’t know how anyone finds their way around here.”_

_“To be honest, I’ve lived here for over 12 years, and I_ **_still_ ** _get lost in the library.”_

_They both laughed at that, echoing through the hallways as they slowly made their way toward the entrance. A group awaited them there, deep in discussion. Talia noticed some familiar faces among them, including Irving, Wynne, the other Grey Warden from earlier, and..._

_“Cullen?_ **_Cullen!_** _”_

_He practically jumped at the sound of her voice, whirling around and gasping at the sight of her._

_“... Y-you?” He looked her up and down, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. “I-I, ah, you were in the chamber, w-with Uldred!… I-I thought…”_

_She couldn’t help smiling, just happy to see that he was still alive, even after all that had happened. “No, no, I-I’m fine.” She eased herself off the Warden’s shoulder, taking a few unsteady steps toward her friend._

_His eyes went wide as the blood drained from his face. “Don’t_ **_touch_ ** _me!” he spat, stepping back as he drew his sword. “S-stay away!”_

_She halted, startled as the young Warden who’d helped her down the stairs jumped in front of her, shield at the ready. Several others intervened as well, including Greagoir, grabbing the panicked Templar by the shoulder._

_“Cullen! Cullen, get ahold of yourself, she’s no threat!”_

_He shrugged off the hand, bring his wild, bloodshot gaze to meet the Knight-Commander’s. His voice was almost pleading, desperate. “I-if she was up there with Uldred, she could be a blood mage, just like the others! Like that so-called_ **_friend_ ** _of hers whose phylactery she helped destroy! How am_ **_I_ ** _the only one who sees this?”_

_“I told you before, that’s_ **_enough!_ ** _Now, I_ **_order_ ** _you to stand down!”_  

_“I…” he deflated, the fire in his eyes snuffing out, but not the wild, dreadful fear. “Forgive me, Knight-Commander, I… forgot myself.” He took a deep breath, his mouth pinched into a tight line. “It won’t happen again.”_  

_Greagoir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’ve been through a lot, and commend you for your resilience. But these mages have survived the same hardships you have.” He set his jaw, his glare stern. “Now, apologize to this young lady, and confine yourself to your quarters until further notice.”_

_He did apologize. Hollow, barely audible and all the while refusing to look her in the eye. It was somehow worse than if he hadn’t said anything at all, and she felt as if a heavy weight were pressing down on her from all sides._

 

And then she woke up.

Talia groaned, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. The way the fade occasionally recreated things so vividly was just _too much_ , sometimes.

How long had it been since she’d even _thought_ about that? So much had happened in the aftermath of Uldred’s attack, _so much_ that required more attention than a mere girlhood crush gone sour. It had been easier to simply push through, and then, eventually, forget.

_I guess it’s affected me more than I’d realized._

After spending longer than she meant to just staring at the bottom of the bunk above her, she realized that sense of weight pressing down on her hadn’t gone away with the dream, and looked to find all three of the children had essentially dog piled on top of her, fast asleep. Rowan and Joshua sat at the table at the side of the room, reading in silence.

Fresh tears welled up as she smiled, shifting to pull the children into a hug. _That’s right_ , she thought. _No matter what obstacles we encounter here, at least we’re all safe._

As heavy as they all were, this was a burden she couldn’t even think to regret.


	7. Simple Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his life, Alistair had never been a man of extravagant wants. It was the simplest things in life that made him happy, and it was the simplest things in life that he wanted the most. A good meal. Friends he could count on. A family who loved him. A sense of purpose. Justice.
> 
> You know. Simple things.
> 
> And now was no exception. Sitting before him was a woman he hadn't seen in ten years, smiling an unreadable smile in all her terrifying glory. He was a man of simple wants, that much was true.
> 
> Right now, all he wanted, more than anything, was to sink into the floor.

All his life, Alistair had never been a man of extravagant wants. It was the simplest things in life that made him happy, and it was the simplest things in life that he wanted the most.

A good meal.

Friends he could count on.

A family who loved him.

A sense of purpose.

Justice.

You know. Simple things.

And now was no exception. Sitting before him was a woman he hadn't seen in ten years, smiling an unreadable smile in all her terrifying glory. He was a man of simple wants, that much was true.

Right now, all he wanted, more than anything, was to sink into the floor.

“Alistair, my dear! I’m _so_ glad we could finally track you down.”

He winced. “H-hello, Leliana.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, fingers tented together. “It’s been quite some time. Are you well?”

He shrugged. “I, uh, I’ve been _better_ , to be honest.”

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shuffled his feet, glancing around for a moment before looking back to her. She blinked.

“... so, uh... you’re the ‘Old Friend’ the Herald mentioned, then?”

“I am! Surprised?”

He shrugged again, and she sat back as she gestured for him to take the seat near her. “I hear you’ve been keeping busy.”

He could practically hear his knees creak as he lowered himself into the chair, sweat beading across his forehead for reasons he couldn’t even begin to fathom. “Ehehehe, uuuhh…. yyyyouu _could_ say that.”

“I _do_ hope Lady Lavellan didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“Well, uh, I wouldn’t say it was _particularly-”_

“ _Tell me_ , Alistair,” she said, voice suddenly sharp as the daggers that hung on the wall nearby, “Exactly how many drinks did it take for her to convince you to come here?”

He flushed, mouth pinching into a deep frown. _Ah. There it is._ He glanced to one side with a huff. “... If you only brought me here to _scold_ me, I wonder why you _bothered_. I had plenty of people already doing that back in Redcliffe.”

There was a long pause before he heard her sigh. “I'm sorry, Alistair, I... I didn’t bring you here just to lecture you.”

His lips pinched together, biting back several nasty comments as he brought his gaze back to meet hers. “... Then why _did_ you bring me here?”

“You _know_ why I brought you here. The Inquisition needs help.”

“But why did you bring _me?_ If you’re looking for the Wardens, you already _have_ Blackwall. I haven’t heard from them in _years_ , now. I really _won’t_ be much help with that.”

“It isn’t _just_ the Wardens, Alistair. The _world’s_ falling apart. I’ve lost so many friends, Divine Justinia among them. I…” she sighed. “... I can’t _stand_ the thought that, if it _does_ all come to an end, you’d die sitting alone in a bar feeling sorry for yourself. You're _better_ than that. You're _capable_ of so much.”

He just stared at her, for once at a loss for words. He certainly didn’t _feel_ very capable. She seemed to read that from his face, standing up to approach him, her hand on his shoulder.

“... You’re a _good man_ , Alistair. If you really _are_ the same person I knew all those years ago, then I _know,_ you’d rather do anything you can to help than sit around and do nothing.” A smile, small and a bit sheepish, but a smile nonetheless, peeked through. “And, to be _quite_ frank, we really _do_ need all the help we can get.”

That sudden burst of frankness caught him off guard, and he burst out laughing. She watched him as he doubling over, wheezing, only getting ahold of himself when she softly cleared her throat. He coughed a few times, before grinning up at her.

“Alright, alright... what can I do to help?”

Her smile widened. _This_ was the Alistair she knew all those years ago. “Plenty, but we’ll work you in easy to start.” She turned away, taking up a stack of papers that sat nearby to thumb through them. “As an Agent of the Inquisition, you’ll be working for me. ”

For her, huh? The Inquisition’s Spymaster. Not what he expected, if he was honest. “Leliana, I have to ask… are you _sure_ ? Warden abilities aside, I’m not much more than another sellsword, really. That kind of work and spying don’t _exactly_ go hand in hand.”

She nodded, looking back up with that same terrifying smile she’d had when he’d entered this room. “I'm _more_ than sure, because _I_ know what you’re capable of.”

 

* * *

  


Of course, Leliana had been right about Alistair. As Spymaster, she had a use for many different kinds of people, and he was no exception. Scouting, exploring, protection- each mission she entrusted with him, no matter what it was, he’d grit his teeth and throw himself in.

“We found a great deal of new passages,” he explained after one such mission, “But most of what little we found inside was beyond saving.” He patted the top of the box he'd brought with him. “Still, there were at least a _few_ things that might be useful.”

“Oh? Let me see.”

Alistair opened the box, and the two leaned over to examine the contents, occasionally pointing at one item or another to comment on some aspect.

“The runes on this one are interesting...” Leliana mused, gently picking one up to examine it closer. “I've never seen anything like them.” She placed it back down gently. “We should check with the others and-”

“Miss Leliana?”

The two turned to see that a young boy, who couldn't have been older than 10, had entered the tent while they were speaking. He stepped forward, holding out a piece of paper folded several times over.

“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but this message just came from one of your scouts. Said it was urgent.”

Leliana thanked him as she took the note, reading it over in silence. Alistair and the boy both watched her as she seemed to think it over, finally nodding to herself and retrieving two fresh pieces of paper. She wrote something down on each, folded and handed them back to the boy, along with a silver coin. “Please, bring this to the Commander, and this one to Scout Harding. Thank you, Justin.”

The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes ma’am!” he chirped, turning around and exiting at a full sprint. He didn't get ten feet outside before he tripped, falling flat on his face.

“Oh, _dear._ ” Leliana stepped forward to check on him, but Alistair was already at the boy's side, helping him up and looking him over.

The boy was obviously trying to bite back tears, sniffling as his hands gripped onto one of his knees like a vice.

Alistair smiled in what he _hoped_ was a reassuring way. “Hey, come on now, let me take a look. Your name’s Justin, right??”

The boy nodded, sniffling as he gingerly removed his hands so Alistair could see.

“Alright, Justin, let's see what we got here.” He looked it over, brow furrowed.

The boy watched as his face seemed to go through an entire journey, from confusion, to shock, to utter horror. “I-Is it bad?”

Alistair sighed, glancing off to look toward the breach in the distance, as if trying to decide something. “Justin, you’re a big boy, so... I’ll be honest with you.” He turned back to look him straight in the eye. “... I'm afraid we'll have to cut it off.”

Justin blinked in surprise, before he dissolved into a fit of giggling. Alistair grinned, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“It’s just a scrape, not anything a good cleaning and a bandage can’t fix. You’re gonna be fine. Now,” he leaned back to help the boy to his feet, “Do you think you can make it to the healers tent alright?”

The boy flash a wide, toothy grin, nodding again. “I’ll be fine, ser! Thank you, ser!”

Alistair smiled as he watched the boy run off, before he noticed Leliana standing outside her tent, an almost catlike smirk plastered on her face.

“.... Why are you _smiling_ like that?”

“I was just thinking... you would make a good father.”

He sighed, the grin practically dripping off his face as his shoulders sagged. “ _Yeah_ , well,” he grunted, scratching at the back of his neck as he glanced aside, “ _That's_ not likely to happen, is it?”

Leliana just shrugged, turning back to duck into her tent.

Alistair watched her, not budging from where he was, caught up in his thoughts- what sort of life he might have had if _this_ or _that_ had been different. Then _The Song_ crept back in, and he shook his head with a groan. No use thinking about what _might_ have been. He could only keep going for as long as he could stay focused on the present.

No matter how focused he was during the day, however, the song would always come back at night, leaving him staring at the ceiling and cursing his rotten luck.

Before the Inquisition, he’d simply drink until he’d passed out, but Leliana had made it _quite clear_ that this was no longer an option. So instead, he threw himself wholeheartedly into his work. That way, no matter how bad the song got, he was always so exhausted that he passed out as soon as he crawled into bed.

Of course, just cause he'd _promised_ not to work hungover didn't mean he couldn't drink _at all._

“I’ll tell ya,” he drawled one night in the local tavern, “The Calling wouldn’t be _nearly_ so bad if it was jus’ a _better song._ ”

The girl sitting next to him groaned. “This again? Look, if it’s _bothering_ you so much, why not, y’know,” she mimed her finger slicing across her throat, “Get _on_ with it already?”

The bearded man sitting beside them sputtered into his beer. “ _Sera!”_

“ _Whaaaat?_ I’m not sayin’ I _want_ him to or anything,” She took another swig of beer, turning her attention back to Alistair. “You’re good for a laugh an’ all, yeah? But complainin’ about it’s _not_ gonna fix it, and it’s _not_ gonna go away, right?” She smirked, punching him on the shoulder. “I’d miss ya, ‘course.”

Alistair considered this a moment before shaking his head. “No… not _yet_ , anyways. I’m not ready. I may not be with the Wardens any longer, but I at least want to find out what _happened_ to them, before I…” He coughed. “... _go_.”

Blackwall chuckled. “Good lad,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Finishing what you started. I respect that.”

Alistair groaned. “You sound like _Bella_ , calling me ‘lad’ this and ‘lad’ that. I’m past 30, you know.”

Sera snorted. “Oh, _sorry_ , what should we start callin’ you, ‘Old Man’? ‘Gramps’ maybe?”

That finally got a laugh out of him, and the other two shared a secret smile while he doubled over.

Drinking could only do so much about The Calling, but it became a little easier to endure with friends.


	8. A Day in the Life

“ _Hey, Cullen? I have a question.”_

“ _Hmm? Yes?”_

“ _.... Would you_ **_really_ ** _have struck me down? If I was actually possessed.”_

“ _I...” the templar hesitated. “... I would have felt_ **_terrible_ ** _about it... but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and will do as I'm commanded.”_

_Talia sighed. “Well... I'm glad it didn't have to come to that.” It wasn't a surprising answer, but still disappointing, to say the least. An awkward silence had fallen between them, and she cleared her throat, for no other reason than to fill it._

“ _I suppose you_ **_do_ ** _have your duty... And speaking of duties, I have my own to take care of.” She flashed a grin and a quick salute before turning to walk away. “I'll talk to you later, Cullen.”_

“ _Y-you can come and talk to me anytime you like!” he blurted, cheeks flushed._

“ _I'll hold you to that!” She called over her shoulder, before dashing around a corner._

 

A noise above her dragged Talia back into the waking world, her eyes fluttering open to take in the view of the bunk above her. It took her a few moments to process, before letting out a loud groan and grabbing a pillow to smush into her face.

_Maker, what was that, the day after my harrowing...? Ugh, that feels like such a long time ago._

She'd done her best to avoid Cullen since she'd arrived. Indeed, she'd tried not to even _think_ about him. There was so much else going on, and their whole situation was just so _awkward,_ to say the least _._ She just wasn't ready to deal with any of it. Yet, she'd still caught sight of him on more than one occasion, sometimes just passing in the chantry's halls by chance, and other times noticing him standing nearby, catching his eye just in time for him to conspicuously look away.

He had never been particularly subtle. _What’s his game?_ She would wonder. After all these years, did he _still_ harbor some paranoid suspicion that she was just another demon?

More rustling from the bunk above her brought her back to the present, and she rolled out of bed so she could peek in at her ‘neighbor’. “G’morning, sleepyhead.”

Samantha glanced up from the book she was reading, if only for a moment. “Morning, Miss Talia.”

“ _Please_ tell me you weren’t up all night reading that book again.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t this time, honest! I woke up when Joshua and Rowan left, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Talia laughed, reaching over to tousle her hair. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to it.” She turned to glance around the cabin- Sorrel and Justin were still fast asleep, and Joshua could be seen just outside the window, tending to Rowan’s plant boxes.

After roughly straightening out her bed, she started digging through the pile of clean laundry that no one had managed to sort yet. “... You know where Rowan went?”

“I think they said something about helping the healers today?”

Talia shrugged, tossing aside a couple scarves before unearthing a clean tunic. She was halfway through pulling it on when she heard a voice come in from outside, and stopped to hear more clearly.

“I’m so sorry, your name was Joshua, right?” Talia perked up as she recognized the voice- _is that Aster?_ She didn’t hear a reply, but Joshua must have nodded, as Aster's voice continued after a few moments.

“May I, uh, ask you a question?”

“... You may.”

“I wanted to ask, are you... uh… I know you’re here because of Talia, but did you actually... _want_ to join the Inquisition?”

His response came without hesitation. “The breach is a danger to everyone. If there is something I can do to help, then I will do it.”

“Really? I see.” A pause. “That is… good. I’m glad you’re here.”

The conversation seemed to end there, and Talia couldn’t help smiling to herself as she finished getting dressed for the day. Sometimes she worried if she'd made the right call bringing the kids and tranquil she'd sworn to protect with her to this Inquisition. Knowing that the Herald was the kind of person to ask Tranquil mages those kinds of question quickly put her worries to rest.

And with those worries put to rest and others momentarily forgotten, she was ready to tackle the new day.

 

* * *

 

By far, the most difficult part of living in Haven was finding the children at any given time.

There was no telling where any of them could be when they’d first arrived. They’d quickly volunteered to help with any chores or odd jobs they could find, picking up a little pocket money in exchange for gathering herbs for medicine, or delivering messages across camp.

When not occupied with chores or lessons, they were usually found finding entertainment where they could. More than once Talia would return from a mission with Aster to find them gathered by Varric’s fire, attention held rapt as he spun them story after story from whole cloth. Sometimes she’d almost bump into Iron Bull running by with all three of them, hefted over his shoulder as easily as if they were sacks of flour, if sacks of flour squealed very loudly. He laughed when she asked him about it, saying that carrying them made for good stamina training.

Eventually, the three developed a sort of schedule, making it a _little_ easier for Talia to gather them when it was finally time for their lessons. For example, that afternoon Talia had managed to find Samantha in only the _third_ place she’d checked.

“Madame Vivienne, I am _so_ sorry if she’s bothering you, I know you must be busy.”

“ _Nonsense,_ darling, she’s _delightful.”_ She looked down her nose at the young woman, eyebrows arched pointedly with a knowing smile. “With diligence, time, and study, she’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

Samantha beamed at that. As the two walked away, Talia glanced down at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Sooooo, uh... what kind of things has the First Enchanter been teaching you, then?”

“Outside of etiquette lessons? We’ve mostly studied Barrier spells.”

Talia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

The girl nodded, brow set as she kept her gaze straight ahead. “I know we're safe here, but… but if there _is_ trouble, I want to help protect everyone.”

Talia could feel herself tearing up, grinning as she dove down to scoop her up into a hug. “Mmmm _mmm!!!_ You’re growing up to be an amazing young woman, you know that?”

“Yes, I know,” came her reply, but Talia could hear the grin in her voice as she hugged back.

 

Justin was easier. He’d quickly latched onto Sera, a given considering they shared a very similar sense of humor. The pair were often seen planning out different pranks and ideas, pouring over crudely drawn plans and diagrams. They both swore that the traps were meant for any enemies that tried to attack the village, but Talia still kept a wary eye on the two of them.

Today she’d found Justin gleefully exhibiting his new ability to turn his eyelids inside out. “Friend of Sera's taught me” he’d declared proudly to Talia, who was trying her best not to laugh as Samantha squealed in disgust. “One of Leliana's agents, I think.”

Talia chuckled, glancing over at Sera, who was lounging atop a nearby wall. “I’m not sure if I should thank him or demand an apology.”

The elf grinned. “No harm in it, right? If he gets annoying about it, I’ll just punch him in the arm ‘til he stops.”

Talia shook her head, still unable to suppress a snicker. “Thanks, but I _think_ we can manage without hitting.”

Sera shrugged. “Alright, have it your way.”

 

Sorrel was always the most difficult to find, wandering all over Haven, talking to anyone and everyone. One time, Talia had found her with Horsemaster Dennet, explaining very passionately why she should be allowed to ride a Mabari as he desperately tried to keep a straight face. Another time, she’d had to give a very formal, long-winded apology to Josephine and several foreign dignitaries who Sorrel had interrupted by wandering into the Ambassadors office. She was so curious and full of so many questions, and when he had the time, Solas delighted in answering each and every one of them.

But Aster ended up being her favorite, and the Herald herself had developed a soft spot for the girl from the beginning. The two would sit and tell stories for what seemed like hours, about the elven pantheon, how the stars were made, where the first Halla came from, tale after tale after tale. Sometimes the other children would join them, and Talia, always a sucker for a good story herself, would stay and listen as well. Today, they’d found the two in the middle of doing each others hair. She and the other waited to the side while Aster put the finishing touches on the second of two braids.

“Lady Herald?” she heard Sorrel pipe up after a moment of silence.

The Herald tried to scold her, but the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “I've told you, _da'len_ , call me Aster.”

“Alright, Lady Aster... are all those stories you tell really true?”

Aster paused to mull this over. “Well,” she finally responded as she pulled out a thin, purple ribbon. “I'll tell you what my Keeper always says. Whether the old stories are true or not isn't quite as important as that we remember them.” Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she twisted the ribbon in her fingers, working to keep the braid secure. “.... There's power in stories, you know. People long dead can live on through them. The mistakes that they made, the lives they lived, their deeds, we can learn from. Stories help us grow.” She chuckled, sitting back as her work was complete. “Plus, if nothing else, they're a lot of fun, aren't they?”

Sorrel nodded, and Talia, watching from her seat several feet away, couldn’t hold back a relieved smile. In the circle, this sweet girl never would have had the chance to connect with her culture like this. Books could only teach so much, and the Chantry discouraged outside magics and influence as much as it could. Here, with so many different people from all walks of life, she had so much more room to grow. All the children did.

She was broken out of this train of thought as Sorrel tackled her around the middle in a tight, vice-like hug, almost knocking the air out of her.

“Whoa! Well, _you_ seem happy to see me!” She grinned, looking down at the three she’d finally managed to wrangle together. “Well, now that I have all three of you, are you ready for your lessons?”

 **_“No!”_ ** All three shouted, grinning.

“Well, _too bad!_ ”

 

* * *

 

As usual, once their lessons were over, the children stuck around to watch some of her classes with the Inquisition's Mage Allies, sitting to one side where they were out of the way. They all claimed they were just resting while they for dinner, but any time she had a chance to check on them, they seemed to be paying attention as raptly as any of the older mages in her classes.

Talia’s class load was fuller than it had ever had back in the circle. The rebel mages had not just come from Ferelden, but from circles all over Thedas. The Former Grand Enchanter herself, Fiona, hailed from Montsimmard, and others came from places such as Cumberland, Ostwick, and even a few who had managed to escape from Kirkwall or Dairsmuid unscathed. They all knew the _basics_ of healing, of course. However, not everyone had had the chance to train with Wynne like she had.

“Now, straight healing magic is always good in a pinch, and could easily save lives in the heat of battle. But when you have the _time_ , it’s always best to combine with conventional healing techniques, using herbs, medicines, bed rest, and so on. Who here can name the best plants to assist healing?” Several of the mages raised their hands, and Talia pointed one out.

“Spindleweed?”

“Yes, actually! In addition to spindleweed's healing properties, it's also very helpful for its _preventative_ abilities, such as its use in resistance tonics. Now, anything else? Yes, you, there.”

“Elfroot?”

“Absolutely correct, good! And thankfully, Elfroot is very common, so even if you’re running low, you can literally find it anywhere.”

She waved her students closer. “Now, if you use herbs alongside healing spells, you can save mana and heal more people without tiring. The quickest method if you're in a pinch is to apply the whole leaves to the wound, but it's most effective if you can grind them into a paste."

She demonstrated how to prepare the elfroot where everyone could see, then sent them off to gather and prepare their own elfroot. As the last student ran off, she noticed a familiar fur-clad figure standing nearby. She sighed, rubbing her temple. _Watching me again, huh? And not saying a word._ Well, her class wouldn’t be back for ten minutes, at least. She shrugged, crossing the distance between them. Now was as good a time as any to rip off that bandage.

“... Hello, Cullen.”

He jumped, fumbling with the notes he had been pretending to look over. “Oh, Lady Amell! I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check on the training. See how it's, uh, progressing.”

She looked away to watch her last student disappear into the nearby forest. “They're picking things up quickly, I think. These mages finally have a real chance to prove themselves, and they’re very eager to do so.”

He sighed, weary eyes following her gaze. “They’re ready to help seal the breach, that much is certain. It’s what they’ll do _after_ that worries me.”

“Well, even if this alliance _is_ only for the sake of the breach, they’ll still be a great help to the Inquisition. Between the fighting and the demons, there’s a lot of people out there who need help.” She smiled. “I think they'll be able to do a lot of good.”

“The Herald seems to hope so, too. I can only hope that faith hasn’t been misplaced.”

Talia huffed. _How am I supposed to respond to that?_ Fortunately she didn’t have to, as they were thankfully interrupted by the children.

“Miss Talia, it’s getting cold out. Is it alright if we go sit with Varric by the fire?”

Talia huffed. It was _always_ cold out, up here in the mountains. Poor kids. “Well, alright, but _stick together_ and _stay_ there, ok? It’s almost time for dinner, I don’t want to have to go looking for you all over the village again, you hear me?”

The three nodded and ran off. Cullen watched as they scrambled through the village's gate, brow furrowed.

“... I believe I’ve seen those three around the village recently. Who are they?”

“Hmm? Oh, those are my kids.”

His eyes practically popped out of his sockets. “O-oh!!” The way his complexion changed as he stammered and sputtered, Talia truly couldn't tell whether his body was trying to blush or go pale. “Y-y-your _kids_ , you say? I-I see...”

She blinked, snorting as it dawned on her what that had sounded like. “Oh, _goodness_ , no, not like _that_ ! They're my students from the circle!” She couldn’t stop herself from dissolving into giggles as his expression shifted from confused to indignant. “Maker, the look on your face! You thought I actually-” She snorted again, trying to hide her grin behind her hand. “Goodness, I suppose they _do_ resemble me somewhat, don't they? _Especially_ Sorrel.”

 _“ Alright_ , alright, _very_ funny.”

“I’d have to have been _very_ busy to have three of them, eh?”

He groaned, face meeting palm with an audible slap. “Maker,” he muttered, “It’s as if nothing’s changed since Kinloch Hold.”

She laughed. “No, no, I'm sorry, I’ll stop. I should really watch my phrasing.”

He sighed, his hand dragging down across his face. “You always _did_ enjoy working with children the most. I suppose that much hasn’t changed, either.”

She turned to look at him, and their eyes met for what must have been the first time since she’d joined the Inquisition. They were the same as always, determined, and so, _so_ tired. _Just like they were back then..._ And with that thought, she recalled what he’d said _that_ time.

 _“She could be a blood mage, just like the others!”_ He’d pleaded with the Knight-Commander, ten years ago, glaring at her with those same eyes.

 _“ It's not a matter of debate. There will be abominations among the mages, and we_ **_must_ ** _be prepared!”_ That had only been _days_ ago.

She tore her gaze away again, mouth pinched into a thin line. “... No, I suppose there hasn’t been much change at all.”

His brow furrowed at that, but any response he had was cut off as Aster ran over, huffing for air as if she’d been running all over the village.

“Talia, Commander, _there_ you two are! I'm sorry to interrupt, but as soon as you can, we need you to come meet in the war room. The mages as well.”

“Why, what's going on?”

Aster grinned, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

“It's decided. Tomorrow, we're sealing the breach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon.


	9. Ma Ghilana Mir Din'an

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia had gone over what to do more than a dozen times- if the alarm ever sounded sounded, everyone was to head straight to the chantry toward the back of the village. She burst in the door, sighing with relief as she caught sight of them gathered in one corner.
> 
> “Good, you’re all….” she trailed off as she finished her headcount, her heart jumping into her throat.
> 
> “.... Where’s Sorrel?”

Talia had gone over what to do more than a dozen times- if the alarm ever sounded sounded, everyone was to head straight to the chantry toward the back of the village. She burst in the door, sighing with relief as she caught sight of them gathered in one corner.

“Good, you’re all….” she trailed off as she finished her headcount, her heart jumping into her throat. “.... Where’s Sorrel?”

Samantha and Justin looked at each other before the older of the two spoke up. “We were making flower crowns during the celebration, but we didn't have enough for all of us. She said she knew where to find more, and ran off.”

Talia swore under her breath as she smacked herself on the forehead, massaging her temple. “...Okay, okay. I’ll go out and find her. You two,” she said with a stern glare to Joshua and Rowan, “Keep everyone together, and follow the Sisters instructions until I get back. I’m counting on you.” They nodded, and she was out the door before any of the Sisters could protest.

* * *

  
“Sorrel?? Sorrel!!”

Her search had brought her to the village's outskirts, near the edge of the forest. A small noise nearby drew her attention, and she finally spotted her, poking her head out of a spot from deep within the thick growth outside one of the buildings. She never would have noticed Sorrel if she hadn't been calling for her- she was so small, and so well hidden, that she might have stayed there undetected for hours.

She rushed over, pulling her into a quick hug before desperately checking her over. “Sorrel! Thank the Maker I found you, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

Sorrel shook her head, tiny fist clutching a thick handful of small wild daisies. Talia smiled, despite herself.

“Wow, you found all that yourself?” The girl nodded. “Great job, sweetie!”

A deep rumble in the distance caught their attention, and as they turned, they saw a great avalanche beginning to pour off the distant mountains. Craning her neck, Talia was barely able to see it dump onto the forces in the valley beneath, and a distant cheer came up from the village. The celebration was cut short, however, by a deafening roar, followed by a fireball destroying one of the trebuchets. 

Talia and Sorrel watched all this, frozen in something that was still half-hug, half-fearful cling.

The smaller of the two was the first to speak. “Ummmm, hey, Talia?”

She swallowed. “Y-yes, Sorrel?”

“.... Was that a Dragon?”

“I think it was, yes.” She watched it soar overhead, almost entranced, before she managed to look back down to her companion. “.... I think we need toget back to the Chantry.”

The girl nodded, and they ran, managing to scramble through the gate where Cullen was desperately trying to hold everything together. Talia noticed Aster nearby, fighting off some of the forces that had already overwhelmed the village's outer defenses. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the armor- Templars. Or rather, she _thought_ they were templars. Some of them looked the same as always, but others had developed some rather _severe_ growths- red crystals bursting through at random points on the body.

 _What_ _ **happened**_ _to them? Will Aster be okay?_ Talia grit her teeth. _Augh, I_ _ **want**_ _to help, but I have to get Sorrel back to the others! We'll have to try to sneak through undetected._ She ducked her head to look at Sorrel, making the _shhhh_ gesture with one finger before pulling her down one of the side streets, away from the bulk of the fighting. With a bit of luck, they would be able to get up to the chantry this way.

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side, as one of the invading templars spotted them. He shouted and began to give chase, forcing the two of them to break into a sprint. They turned corner after corner, hoping to lose his trail, hands clasped all the while. Talia cursed as they came upon another battle obstructing their path, whirling around only to find the way back blocked by the Templar who'd followed them. _Well. No escape now._

“G-get behind me, Sorrel,” Talia whispered, and they slowly backed away, step by agonizing step. The templar kept in step with them, and hearing the almost-rhythmic sound of his heavy footfalls approaching, she was reminded of that day in Kinloch Hold.

 

Thud.

 

_Thud._

 

_**Thud.** _

 

She started to prepare a spell behind her back, but it fell apart as he approached, grimacing as she felt her mana being drained. _Ah, shit._ Out of options and mentally grasping at straws, she forced a strained smile- maybe this one could be reasoned with.

“N-now, Ser,” she couldn't help twitching as he stepped forward with another _thud,_ “I-is this what The Maker wants?” _Thud._ “K-killing innocent women, a-a-and _children-”_ **Thud.** “-in cold blood on the street?”

She felt her back press into the wall of a building, Sorrel clinging to her leg, and the templar stopped several paces away. For an agonizingly long moment, he didn’t move, apparently contemplating her words. When he spoke, however, she swore she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“... ‘ _The Maker’?_ Hah! I follow the Elder One now.” His grip shifted on his sword, taking another step forward as he did. “But you’ll meet _your_ maker soon enough.”

The templar's sword lifted into the air, and Talia screamed, gathering the very last of her mana to form the strongest barrier she could. The faint glow told her it wasn’t enough, and she closed her eyes, instinct turning her to duck down and cover Sorrel with her body. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable downswing to connect. 

Instead, she heard a loud, metallic clang, so close she could feel it resonating in her bones.

She opened her eyes and looked up to find one of the Inquisition's soldiers had jumped between them, gritting his teeth as he struggled to brace his shield against the templar's almost inhuman strength.

… _Where'd he come from?_ Talia barely had time to wonder before the soldier's feet shifted beneath him, roaring as he managed to push the templar back with a great shove. The templar stumbled back only a few feet, regaining his balance and lashing out with a growl, but the soldier brought his sword up in time to parry. Before the Templar could react, the soldier swung around with his shield, throwing his weight behind it as it bashed into the Templar's head. He crumpled to the ground, the fight ending as quickly as it had begun.

The soldier, breathing heavily, wiped at his forehead before turning to check where he'd left Talia and Sorrel. He ran over to them, kneeling down and offering his hand.

“Are you hurt?”

Talia, for once speechless, shook her head as he helped them to their feet, and he smiled.

“Good.” The smile vanished as a noise came from behind him. The templar groaned, shifting as he started to recover, and the soldier turned back to face his opponent. “I'll hold him off, now _go._ _ **Run!”**_

He didn't need to tell them twice. The ground practically flew beneath their feet, following the path back the way they'd came, whirling around corners and vaulting over the bodies, both Templar and Inquisition, that now littered the streets. Finally, the Chantry's door came into view, and they sprinted through, practically collapsing once inside.

“Talia! _Sorrel!”_

They were overwhelmed at once, Samantha and Justin practically tackling them before Rowan and Joshua could even try to help them to their feet. “Oh, thank the _Maker_ you're safe!”

The other two children quickly enveloped Sorrel in a hug as Talia dusted herself off. Justin sniffled. “W-when I heard there was a _dragon_ , I'd thought...”

Talia turned to Rowan and Joshua, who nodded. “It is fortunate that you could return to us unharmed, Talia.”

She laughed, tearing up herself as she pulled them into a hug. “I'm glad to see you, too.”

They stayed that way until nearby voices caught her attention, drawing her to where Aster was speaking quietly with Cullen, Roderick, and a boy she'd never seen before.

“What about it, Cullen. Will it work?”

“Possibly, _if_ he shows us the path. But what of your escape?” The look on he Herald's face said enough, and Cullen, stunned for just a moment, quickly collected himself. “... Perhaps, you will surprise it. Find a way.”

A nod from her sent him off to give fresh instructions to the soldiers, and Talia watched as the Herald closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths as if to prepare for something. Obviously, they had a plan, and whatever that plan was didn't seem likely to end well.

In all the chaos around her, she looked smaller than ever. Talia hesitated for only a moment, before slowly reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.

“... Anything I can do to help?”

The elf's eyes shot open in surprise, tears forming for the first time the entire night. She took a long, stuttered breath, before she shook her head, taking the hand on her shoulder in hers as she turned to smile up at her fellow mage. “... The best thing you can do for me is to get your people out of here safely.” She took another deep breath, before laughing, rather weakly. “Y-you leave the heroics up to me, alright?”

Talia nodded, trying to smile back, . “... Thank you, Aster.”

Sorrel's voice called over to them, shouting something in Elven, and Aster laughed again, a real one this time. “ _Aaah, m_ _a ghilana mir din'an,”_ she groaned, “I didn't teach her _that.”_

Talia's eyebrow shot up in confusion. “What, what'd she say?”

Aster grinned, back straightening as she picked up her staff. “She told me to kick his ass.”


	10. Frostbite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Battle at Haven, an unexpected and unlikely reunion.

“Any sign of her yet?”

Scout Harding shook her head, shrugging off her armor with a grunt. “No, but we did find a few stragglers out there. They’re looking pretty rough, though…” She groaned, stretching out a crick in her shoulders. “Some of them just _barely_ got out of Haven, before…”

Leliana sighed, glancing over at the people the other scouts had managed to bring back with them- they had certainly seen better days. “We’ll have someone look them over. We managed to set up the healers over there.” She gestured towards a  haphazard group of tents and lean-to’s they’d somehow cobbled together in the distance.

Harding nodded to the scouts, and they continued on past the two women. They both waited in silence until they were out of earshot, before the taller one turned back to face the shorter. “You should get some rest, too,” Leliana urged gently.

The Scout shook her head. “I’ll stay for _maybe_ a couple hours, but I want to get back out there as soon as I can.” She turned back to look out into the swirling winds and snow. “I’m not giving up on her just yet.”

 

* * *

 

“Mother Giselle, we have a few more patients for you.”

“Hmmm?” She set down the work she was doing as she turned to face the doorway. “Oh dear… come, I believe we still have a few beds free over this way.”

She lead the scouts and her new charges through her tent and around several others, finally stopping at a half-erected tent with beds set up around the fire. Only two beds seemed to be taken, with a single healer tending to one as the Revered Mother entered. “Lady Amell, we just got some new patients in… could I trouble you to check them over for frostbite?”

“Of course, I still have beds to spare, I can- _frostbite_ ?” Talia whirled around, taking in the group that milled about outside the makeshift entrance. “... Goodness, we’re still _finding_ people out in _that_?”

Giselle nodded, and Talia sighed, looking them over. “D-do you think… No, no, let’s worry about what’s in front of us. Come on, bring them inside.”

The scouts did so, a couple awkwardly ducking under the flap of the makeshift doorway instead of simply pushing the flap aside. Talia rushed forward to help whoever was nearest.

“Here, Penn, you can put him in this bed here, I can- O-oh!“ She gasped as she saw her patients face. “It’s _you_!”

He groaned, head lolling forward. “Grrrnnn… it’s me…? Are you sure?”

She helped the scout lay the wounded soldier back on one of the beds, giving her a better view of his face. She was sure, _absolutely_ sure- it was the same soldier who’d saved her and Sorrel from the Red Templar.

The young man moaned again while she started to check him over, looking for fever, checking his pulse,  and examining the exposed areas for any signs of Frostbite. Meanwhile, the patient's eyes managed to crack over, gradually roving over his surroundings before finally landing on his doctor. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth opened to speak.

He only got as far as, “Oh, you’re....” before succumbing to exhaustion.

Talia hesitated, gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than it should have. The scouts, having finished guiding their charges to their beds, waited nearby.

“... Er, um... Anything else you need from us, Lady Amell?”

That snapped her out of it. “Hmm? Oh, yes, uh…” She turned to survey her new patients. “… Yes, we need more wood on the fire, and… Mother Giselle, are we still running low on ice salve?” The Revered Mother nodded to confirm, and she turned back to the scout closest to her. “Penn, if you could see if there’s any more spindleweed or frostock around, it would be a great help.”

The scouts took their orders with a nod and sped out, leaving only Giselle and Talia behind. Talia turned to her next patient, checking him over as well, as the Revered Mother silently moved to the next bed to do the same thing. “… I can only stay a bit, my dear. Will you be ok on you own?”

Talia’s brow furrowed as she struggled to find her patient's pulse, before turning to face Mother Giselle with a grin. “I’ll be fine. Besides,” she continued, refocusing on her examination, “I can’t exactly let these soldiers freeze to death after they took the trouble to come all this way, can I?”

 

* * *

 

Ugh.

The song again.

It’s like it was _everywhere._ Just… _all_ the _time_.

Just the _worst._

He groaned, the sound barely breaking through the song as his eyes cracked open. Blurry forms moved around him. _If I’m still hearing the song, I guess that means I’m not dead yet._ He sighed. _Pity._

Not for the first time, he wondered if he should just give up on this nonsense and just head for the deep roads. _Honestly, if_ **_that_ ** _battle didn’t kill me, I’m not sure what will._

His head rolled to one side, watching the vague, blurry shapes move about as something resembling voices started to penetrate through the song. They were hazy at first, distant and incomprehensible, like someone was speaking while he ducked his head underwater. With time and focus, the blurry shapes started to solidify and the song began to fade, gradually bringing the voices into clarity.

“… going to be difficult keeping the patients warm long enough, but these should help greatly. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help? Maybe a fire spell, if the cold is still a problem?”

 _“No_ , no, the fire should be plenty once we apply the salve.  You’ve done so much already, you should rest. Save your mana.”

“What about you? You’ve been here longer than me.”

“Someone’s supposed to come take over in another hour, I’ll be fine until then. Go on.”

Hesitation. “A-are you sure?”

Laughter. “If you’re _really_ that worried about me, go fetch Rowan, they can help.”

The blurry shapes finally came into focus as the owner of the first voice ducked under the flap leading out of the tent he found himself in. The other voice thumped down onto a nearby stool, grumbling as she dug her fist into her lower back. He watched in silence as she sighed, glancing around the tent before turning to tidy up the jars on the counter. Auburn hair framed a warm brown face, which was practically buried by a large, thick, burgundy scarf.  His eyes roamed- other beds with people on them, either sleeping or dying. A large fire going strong nearby. A staff leaning in the corner. _Ah… she’s a mage, then._

She’d started to make her rounds checking the patients when his attention finally returned to her. She stopped when she came to his bed, a smile spreading when she noticed he was awake.

“I see you’re finally up! How are you feeling, ser?”

He moved to sit up, or at least tried to before regretting it immediately as his myriad aches and pains happily made themselves known. He groaned, sitting back again. “I have to say, I’ve felt _better.”_

She picked up a clipboard from near his bed. “Where’s it hurt?”

He laughed, or tried to, at least, the result coming out as more of a strained, dry bark. “Aside from _everywhere_?”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “How about anywhere it _doesn’t_ hurt?”

“Nnnnnope. The whole thing, I’m afraid.”

She nodded again, marking something off on what he assumed was his clipboard. “Good, good.”

“I’m sorry, th-that’s _good?”_

She grinned. “It means your Frostbite hasn’t progressed too far yet.” She set the clipboard down again and turned back toward the fire. “Are you thirsty?” she called over her shoulder.

He nodded, realized she couldn’t see him nodding, and replied with a hoarse “Yes.” He couldn’t see what she was doing, but when she returned, she was holding a hot, steaming mug. She set it down on the nearby table as she approached to kneel beside his bedside.

“Here, I’ll help you sit up so you can drink.” She grinned. “Just scream in agony if it’s too much, ok?”

He somehow managed a laugh, grunting as he managed to scoot himself into a somewhat upright position, settling back into a small pile of pillows before accepting the mug. He couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at the smell. “I, uh, don’t think I’m familiar with this kind of tea…?”

She sighed. “… It’s made from Spindleweed. I _know,_ ” she interrupted before he could try to protest, “I know, it doesn’t _sound_ very appetizing, but it _will_ help, I promise.” She forced an apologetic smile when he continued to look skeptical. “I tried adding mint and honey, but I can’t really say how much that’ll help.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You’re _really_ selling me on this, aren’t you?”

“Just drink it, it’ll help with the pain. _Slowly_ , though. You’ll make yourself sick if you just chug it down.”

He snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” He did as he was told, however, taking small but frequent sips of the hot liquid. Now that he had sat up properly, he had a better view of the area he was resting in- several other beds, all occupied by other Inquisition soldiers, forming a ring around the fire. Nearby was a small table, where the healer was busy gathering leaves from different pouches and grinding them up with a mortar and pestle. Preparing medicine, maybe?

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence as she worked and he kept working on his mug of tea. He’d found himself starting to nod off when her voice jolted him back awake.

“.... I’m actually really glad you’re here.”

“... Pardon?”

She chuckled. “Ok, I just heard how that sounded. I mean, I’m glad you made it back safely after the battle, so I could thank you for earlier.”

“Thank me?” Then it dawned on him, and he smacked himself on the forehead. “That’s right, I remember! ... You’re that woman from the village, aren’t you?”

She nodded, and a weak but relieved smile spread on his face. “So you _did_ make it back… Good. I’d been wondering.” He paused to take another sip of tea. “... What about the girl? That little elf girl you were with… is she ok?”

The woman smiled. “She’s fine.” She snickered to herself as she gently poured the contents of the mortar into a cup. “Well, I mean, she’s as safe as any of us are out _here_ , anyways.”

“… Come to mention it, where _are_ we, anyways?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know _exactly_ where we are, but we’re, uh,” she gestured, holding her arms about as far apart as they could go, “Wwwwaaaay up in the Frostback Mountains, somewhere. We kind of went out the back of Haven and just… kept going up, far as I can tell.”

He laughed. “Ok, ok, I get it.” He went to take another sip of tea, inhaling deeply before tipping back a bit too far, leaving him sputtering in surprise as some spilled on his shirt.

“Oh no!” She bolted from her seat, setting aside her project and taking up a nearby rag to clean the spill, “That tea’s still really hot, isn’t it? Are you ok?”

“D-don’t worry, it’s fine, it’s fi-“ he paused as he realized something. “… These aren’t the clothes I was wearing before, are they?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, those were soaked _right_ through. We had to get you out of them and warm you up before the frostbite got any worse.” She pinched two fingers together so that they were barely touching. “You’re lucky, some of the others were thiiiiiiis close to losing something _permanently_.”

“O-oh, I see…” He felt his face getting hot as he stared down into his mug.

He heard her chuckle. “Hey, now, there’s no need to be bashful, Ser.  It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Ahahahaha, um, fair enough!” He coughed, peering up at her as he held the still-steaming mug in his lap. “I _do_ usually prefer to know someone’s name _before_ they see me naked, is all.” He shrugged. “I dunno, call me old-fashioned.”

She chuckled at that, grinning. “Old-fashioned can be nice, sometimes,” she mused as she held out her hand for a handshake. “Call me Talia.”

He took it, giving it a firm shake as he smiled back up at her. “An honor to  _properly_ meet you, Talia. I’m Alistair.”


	11. Are We There Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Skyhold is both long and difficult, but even when the going gets tough, good company can make it feel much easier.

Everyone in the Inquisition was beyond thrilled when Aster was finally found, barely hanging on in the harsh winter of the Frostback Mountains. They were _absolutely ecstatic_ when she told them Solas knew about another place the Inquisition could relocate to, remote and well protected. When they all set out on the journey that would eventually take them to Skyhold, they departed in high spirits. Every member of the Inquisition felt invincible after what they'd survived. After what _she'd_ survived.

However, three days into the long, difficult hike, through harsh winds and thick snow, everyone had become... _less_ than thrilled.

“Are we _there_ yet?”

Talia let out several somewhat forced laughs that quickly dovetailed into a staccato of groans. “It's been _ten minutes_ , Justin. No. We are _not_ _there_ yet.”

The boy moaned, leaning over to lightly headbutt her in the arm as they walked. “How much _farther?”_

Talia faked a sideways from the blow to her arm, nearly toppling over before righting herself and bumping back into him. “I don't know. Why don't you go ask Aster or Solas?”

“Awwww, they're all the way up at the front!”

“They're not that far, you could get up there without much trouble.” She glanced at him sidelong, barely suppressing a smirk. “You're not too scared to go talk to them, are you?”

“No!” Her not-smirk widened, and he relented. “Ok, maybe... can you go ask them?'

Her not-smirk turned into a smile, and she leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Knowing isn't going to get us there any faster, Justin, and you're too old to be whining at me like this. If you won’t go yourself, then why don't you go play a game with the others?”

That got his attention, and he peeked up at her through his eyelashes in his best pleading face. “Can we start a snowball fight?”

She just gave him a Look, and he deflated, slowing his pace to fall back among the other children. She shook her head before continuing on in silence. It was a few minutes before she noticed another person had taken Justin's place beside her, the shit-eatingest of smirks plastered on his face.

“ _Taliaaaaa, are we theeeere yeeeet?”_

Talia groaned, massaging her temple with one hand that managed to help hide a smile. “Maker's breath, Alistair, don't _you_ start. I have _enough_ children whining at me already.”

He gasped in mock offense. _“Children?_ I'll have you know, Lady Amell, that I am a Mature Adult with Adult Interests.”

She snorted, one eyebrow lifted as she glanced at him sidelong. “ _'Adult'_ interests, you say?”

He flushed, momentarily half-frozen before he chuckled weakly, waving his hands before him as if doing so would dispel his embarrassment. “Ahahahuhuh... uh, w-wait, no, _nonononono_ , n-not like _that!”_

She grinned, turning to face him with arms crossed and eyebrows arched pointedly. “What _is_ it like, then? Pray tell, what sort of... _interests_ are you speaking of?”

“Well, you know...” he puffed his chest out slightly as he straightened his posture, “The kinds of things _mature adults_ , such as myself, enjoy. Wine and cheese dinner parties! Long books about history... Sculpture?”

“Uh huh. What about teaching children how to turn their eyelids inside out?”

He lifted one hand to his chest, eyebrows raised in feigned offense. _“Passing on wisdom_ to the next generation, of _course!”_

“Oh, of _course!_ Of course, how silly of me.”

“I mean, you must admit,” he replied, reaching to pull something out of his pack, “When you have a skill with so many uses, it's almost irresponsible not to pass it on.”

She watched him as he took a swig of what turned out to be a bottle, her brows furrowing. “Hold on, what is that? Can I see that?”

He handed it over, and her lips pinched together. “Alistair, I've _told_ you, you shouldn’t be drinking!”

“But it’s so _cold_ out, one drink can't hurt, can it? It warms me up.”

“Yeah, that’s because it’s _lowering your body temperature,_ which, may I _remind_ you, is a _bad idea_ when you're still recovering from Frostbite _and_ Hypothermia.”

“Ah! I see.” He nodded, hanging his head as he glanced away sheepishly. “Ok. Th-that makes sense... I’ll stop. Sorry.”

She smirked. “You see? That’s why you should _always_ listen to your doctor.”

He chuckled, and they walked on in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before he spoke again. “So, uh, I hate to be a bother, but... _do_ you know when we might stop for a break?”

“A break? I'm guessing it must be soon, it's almost lunchtime. Why, is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, it's not a big deal, just my, uh.... bandages mmmm _mmmaaayyy_ needtobechanged.”

Talia's eyebrows shot up. “Really? I just applied fresh ones this morning.”

“Yes, well, uh, I can feel.... _something_ leaking, and, uh, I figured, that _mmmmiiiiiight_ be a problem...”

“... you haven't been scratching it, have you?”

“N-no! Well, maybe just a _bit_...”

She groaned. _“Alistair....”_

“I _know,_ I know. _‘Don’t scratch even if it itches’_ , and _‘always listen to the doctor’_.”

“Damn straight.” She sighed. “...Okay, I'll go up and see if we can stop soon, _if_ you promise to stop scratching.”

An indignant voice piped up from behind them. “What, you'll go ask for _him_ but not for _me?”_

Talia snorted, glancing over her shoulder at the boy who’d apparently snuck back up behind them. “He's my patient, Justin, I'm not going to make him walk any faster than his injury will allow.”

She pretended not to notice Alistair lean around behind her to stick his tongue out at the boy, at least until after he'd run off again, glancing back over with a smirk. “... What's it say about you that you get along with a ten-year-old boy so well?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing _good,_ I'm sure.”

She snickered. “Well, I'll go on ahead to check with Aster, you just take it easy and stay back here with the other children.”

He mock-pouted. “Hey, what do you mean the _other_ children? _”_

“I said what I said. Play nice, ok?”

“I’ll play nice if _they_ will, and knowing Justin…”

She grinned. “Samantha’s actually the one to look out for- she’s spent more time studying magic.”

He laughed. “Good to know! Don’t worry, I don’t think they can do any worse to me than _Corypheus_ did, anyway. I can probably handle babysitting for ten minutes.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “.... _probably_ …?”

He shrugged. _“Prrrroooobably.”_

She laughed. _What a doof_ , she thought, a grin spread on her face as she left him behind. They'd only known each other for a week, but the two had become fast friends.

As she made her way toward the front, another mage caught her eye, smirking as he shifted course to pull up alongside her.

“You are _bad_ , Talia.”

She snorted, still grinning. “I'm _sure_ you're right, Dorian, but you'll need to be more specific as to why.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the group she'd left behind. “That soldier you've been fawning over...?”

“Hey, I haven't been _fawning_ over him! He's my patient!”

Now it was his turn to snort. “Oh, don't give me _that_ . I haven't seen you spend this much time with any of your _other_ patients.”

She faltered, becoming very interested in her feet as she rubbed impulsively at one shoulder. “Well, I-I mean... he saved my _life_ back in the village, y’know? I kinda feel like I _owe_ him, or something.”

His smirk widened. _“And,_ he's easy on the eyes, too.”

She smacked him on the arm, laughing despite herself. “Oh, shut up!”

“Come onnnn, admit _iiiiiittt.”_

“... Ok, he _is_ handsome. _And_ funny. _And_ just... really easy to talk to.”

“What about our Commander?”

“... What, Cullen? What _about_ him?”

Dorian just gave her a Look, and she laughed, incredulous.

“No, seriously, what? The man has _barely_ spoken two words to me since I joined, and almost every time I've _tried_ to, he makes an excuse and _runs off!”_ She shuddered. “And sometimes, during my lessons, I can see him lurking nearby, just _watching._ _You_ heard him after we brought the mages back from Redcliffe, right?”

Dorian sighed. “I did, but-”

“But _nothing_ , Dorian, He doesn't _trust_ us. _Any_ of us. He _can't.”_ She sighed. _“... Especially_ not me. Not after what happened.”

He sighed. “Look, just... do me a favor. Consider that there _may_ be other reasons he's too scared to talk to you.”

Her brow furrowed as she quirked her head to one side. “‘Other reasons’...? What other reasons?”

He couldn’t hold back a strained laugh, rubbing his temple. “I can't tell if you are _actually_ this dense, or just a very good actor, but either way, it is _infuriating.”_

She burst out laughing at that. “Wait, you can't _seriously_ think he still has _feelings_ for me after all these years?”

He simply shrugged, and Talia laughed harder. “You're _nuts._ ”

“That may be, dear Talia, but it's as I was saying, you are _bad._ ”

Talia wheezed, shaking her head. “Don't you have anything better to do than concoct imaginary love triangles for me?”

He shrugged. “It's been a very long hike, and as fun as it is, 'I Spy' gets old after a few days.”

Talia chuckled, patting her friend on the shoulder. “We need to find you a new hobby.”

“I hear crochet is actually quite soothing.”

“ _And_ , bonus, you get a nice sweater out of it!”

At this point, they’d finally caught up to the front of the group. Talia, spotting Aster, patted her companion on the shoulder before turning to leave. “Well, if you’ve finished interrogating me, I need to speak with our fearless leader over there.”

“Go on, go on, don’t let me keep you! We’ll talk later.”

She grinned as she hustled off, waving over her shoulder. “That’s what I’m afraid of!”

Aster hadn’t seemed to notice Talia, eyes focused on the path ahead. However, she spoke as she caught up. “Why are you afraid of talking with Dorian?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” she laughed, “I was joking, mostly.”

“Only mostly?”

Talia sighed. “He’s fun to talk to, but occasionally he can… jump to conclusions. You know?”

Aster shrugged. “Oh, I dunno. He seems pretty perceptive about things to me. Most of the time, anyways.”

“Sure, _most_ of the time.” She sighed again, glancing sidelong at the Herald. “Any chance you know when we'll be stopping for a break?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I think Solas said there's a place by the river where we can stop up ahead. Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine, just one of my patients needs to change bandages. Also, uh, not to be a bother or anything, but… how much longer until we reach our, uh, final destination?”

“Ah, _there_ it is. The ‘are we there yet?’.” Aster smirked up at Talia. “Are the children bothering you again?”

“The children, as well as some... _quasi-children_.” Talia grumbled.

Aster laughed. “Solas says it depends on the weather, so maybe... 5 days? If the snow stays light.”  
  
The two continued in silence for another minute, before Talia glanced back down at the elf. “... I've been meaning to ask, but it's been such a whirlwind the last several days... are _you_ doing alright?”

“Well, uh,” she huffed, rolling her shoulder, “I'm still _alive,_ anyway. I think that's all I can ask for, after everything that's happened.”  
  
Talia nodded, returning her gaze to the path ahead. “I know I already said this, but... I'm glad you're back.”  
  
Aster looked back up at the taller mage, silent for a moment before smiling. “... Me too.” She chuckled. “I mean, I don’t think I actually had any other choice. Sorrel made that _quite_ clear.” The two burst out laughing at that, Talia practically falling over as Aster wiped at her eyes. “ _Creators,_ that was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Talia wheezed, gripping her stomach, “I’ll have to sit her down and have a talk with her about her language.”

“No, _please_ ,” Aster gasped, grasping her arm, “She’s a _gift_. Don’t take that away from me.”

The two continued chatting together until they finally arrived at the riverside spot Solas had mentioned. Talia picked her way through the crowds and groups of travelers, eyes roving until she spotted a familiar pair of pigtails ducked behind a tree.

“Sorrel! Where is-“

_“Shhhhhh!!”_ Her question was quickly cut off as Sorrel waved her down to her level, holding finger to her mouth with the sharpest glare Talia had ever seen from someone so small. After checking to see that the coast was clear, Sorrel turned back to Talia, whispering. “The others are close, but I’m not sure where.”

“... Why are you whispering?”

“I’m hiding.”

She chuckled. “I can _see_ that, but why?”

Sorrel’s answer was interrupted by a snowball whistling barely a hands width above them.

“... Ah.” Talia glanced down to find that Sorrel had been busily making snowballs, and laughed. “I see you guys have been keeping busy while I was up front!”

“I need to keep the boys distracted until Sam’s ready,” Sorrel whispered, pressing a snowball into the older mages hand. “Can you help?”

Talia nodded, glancing around until she spotted them, both ducked behind a crudely made snow fort, as well as-

“Hey!” Talia shouted, waving an accusatory snowball at them. “No fair using your actual shield!”

Alistair poked his head out from behind it to shout back. He got as far as “ _They’ve_ all been-“ before being forced to duck back behind the shield to avoid more incoming snowballs, one of which actually managed to catch him. He huffed, brushing the snow out of his hair. “They’re all using magic! If Sam can cast a barrier on her team, it’s only fair I use my shield!”

Talia turned to see that Sorrel indeed still had the barest shimmer of a barrier still surrounding her.

Talia reached for another snowball, but Sorrel stopped her with one hand. “Keep him talking, Sam’s almost ready.”

“Really?” Talia’s skepticism only lasted a moment before she turned back toward her adversaries.

“Fair or no fair, you’re still an _adult man._ ”

He grinned at that. “Hey, what happened to ‘play nice with the other children’?”

“You-” Talia trailed off as she finally noticed Sam, climbing one of the trees near where the boys were entrenched. She blinked slightly, before Sorrel elbowed her, reminding her of what she was doing. Her own grin widened, trying to keep Sam in her peripheral vision so as to not give her away. “You call this playing _nice_?”

“Hey, we’re just trying to survive in a cruel world.”

The surrounding trees above them, she realized, were practically sagging under the weight of recently fallen snow. Sam had reached a safe place where she could keep her balance, and was carefully readying her staff. _Ah_ , she thought, her heart swelling with pride. _Clever girl._ She glanced over at Sorrel, who nodded back before turning back to face their opponents.

“Well, if the world is so cruel,” she called back, standing up with Sorrel, snowballs at the ready, “Perhaps it’s time to end this.”

The other two stood as well, and the four of them stared each other down. The wind howled. Fingers twitched, adjusting their grip on the packed snow.

And, just as Justin wound back to throw the first snowball, he caught sight of Sam, high in the trees above, grinning down. Before he could say anything, she unleashed her spell, sending a rockfist careening through the trees and burying the two beneath the snow she’d shook lose.

 

* * *

 

“So, maybe, _perhaps,_ uh, having a big snowball fight when my wounds are reopened... wasn’t the _best_ idea.”

Talia just gave him a Look, fastening a fresh bandage on his arm. “ _Noooo_ , y’think?”

“I mean, if they were _already_ open, what’s the harm in a little fun?”

“What, you mean _besides_ the blood loss?” She grunted as she cut off the end of the fresh bandage, sighing as she sat back to observe her handiwork so far. “There, how does that feel so far?”

He looked down at his arm, slowly rotating his shoulder to test the new bandages. “That feels a lot better, thanks.”

“Good! Now,” she continued, leaning forward to work on the rest, “What do you do next time your bandages start to itch?”

He couldn’t help the cheeky grin that spread on his face. “... Scratch it?”

She smacked him on his good arm, causing him to groan in mock pain. “Come to _me_ so I can change it, you _doof !”_

The grin widened. “But I can scratch it first, right?”

She moaned, massaging her temple. “Alright, fine, do as you like. You _are_ an Adult after all. Just know this,” She half-smirked, tapping him on the chest. “If you reopen that wound _again_ , _I'm_ not going to heal it.”

“Maker,” he sighed, half laughing, “You sound _just_ like Wynne.”

“Well, she _did_ teach me a lot of this stuff.” Talia paused, blinking as his words reprocessed through her head. “Wait, hold on, how do _you_ know Wynne?”

“Wynne? Oh, we, uh,” He coughed into his hand, glancing aside, “We traveled together for a time, uh... during the Blight.”

“During the blight…? You mean,” she jolted forward, bandages forgotten to one side in her excitement, “You travelled with the _Grey Wardens?”_

Alistair was taken aback at this sudden burst of curiosity, barely managing to nod before what seemed like a million more questions sprung forth at once. “Did you fight darkspawn? Were they scary? What was the Hero of Ferelden like? Did she really punch the Archdemon?”

He stammered, thrown off both by the mages sudden proximity and the line of questioning she had gone down. “I-I uh…” He swallowed reflexively, his mouth suddenly gone dry, before sighing. “I-I’m sorry, I just…. really don’t like talking about the Blight.” He glanced away, focusing on one of the distant fires. “Too many painful memories.”

“O-oh! Oh, sorry, I,” She sat back, biting her lip as she frowned into her lap, “I-I didn’t mean to pry, of course-“

“No, no!” He coughed again, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s only natural you’re curious.” An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and he seized on the opportunity to change the subject to literally anything else. “You, uh, you said Wynne taught you?”

She nodded, relieved at the change of subject. “I owe her so much... Our circle had more than just the Blight to recover from.”

“Oh, yes, I think I remember... A blood mage took the First Enchanter hostage, and the Knight Commander was about to annul the circle before we arrived.”

She nodded again. “So you _were_ there… you must remember how bad it was then.” She smiled, leaning back. “Learning healing from her helped give me something else to focus on, and feel like I was doing something to help. Wynne seemed so happy to be able to pass on what she knew.” The subject seemed to remind her of the task at hand, and she leaned over to continue reapplying bandages.

He sighed, shifting to let her work. “I feel like I owe her as well. She was a very kind, patient woman… I can’t begin to tell you how much she did for me. I’m lucky to have known her.” His mouth pinched in a thin line as he . “And then, I left so suddenly, I didn’t get to say goodbye. I was too angry at the time to think about anyone else.”

They fell into another awkward silence as she continued her work, _burning_ to ask more questions, but not wanting to push him. She’d learned a _little_ bit about him- growing up in Redcliffe, having received Templar training- but this was the first she’d heard about him knowing Wynne, or anything he’d done during the blight ten years before.

Too caught up in her thoughts to pay close attention to what she was doing, she pulled a bandage tight, only regaining her senses when he hissed in pain.

“A-ah, sorry, sorry!” She chuckled, shifting to readjust the bandage. “I’ll try to be more gentle.”

A wry smirk spread on his face as he leaned back, shaking his head. “Lady Amell, after all the trouble I’ve put you through, you may be as rough with me as you like.”

Something about what he’d said struck her- indeed, struck them both- and they found themselves staring at each other, almost transfixed. They were caught, either held by the gaze the tinge of deja vu they each felt.

Then, Talia snorted, breaking the spell as they both dissolved into giggles. Giggles turned to chortles, and chortles to guffaws, until they could barely stay upright from laughter. Talia wiped the tears from her eyes, throwing her head back again as Alistair doubled over, wheezing. Any questions she had could wait for later- they had time.

 

Meanwhile, their laughter had caught the attention of a lone figure, kneeling over a pack on the other side of the clearing. His hands hovered in the air it as if they’d forgotten what they were doing, loosely holding the straps as he watched.

“... You seem distracted, Commander.”

The comment snapped him out of his reverie, although to the askers disappointment, he didn’t jump in surprise. “Sister Leliana,” he said, turning to face her, “Who’s that soldier over there?”

Her head tilted to one side. “Hmm? Where?”

“There, talking to Lady Amell.”

“Oh, that’s Alistair, one of my agents.… Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no, uh, no reason.”

Leliana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a wicked spark he didn’t particularly like gleaming in her eye. “... Lady Amell seems to be tending to him very well ever since the scouts brought him in.”

He nodded. “I understand her to be one of the best healers the Ferelden circle had to offer.” He shrugged one shoulder as if working out an ache, before he returned to digging through his pack. He sat back as he finally unearthed the package he’d been searching for. “... He should be in good hands.”

Leliana couldn’t help a smirk. “... Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Commander?”

He sputtered, the package slipping out of his hands and into the snow. “Jealous? Wh- Umm, uuuh… w-why would I be jealous?”

She smiled, patting his shoulder. “Oh, come now, Commander,” she cooed as she brushed past him. “Lying to me is pointless.”


	12. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now settled at Skyhold, Talia begins to search anew for something she'd lost.

“Inquisitor, huh?” Talia grinned, tugging at a weed in the garden. “How does it feel?”

Aster hummed, examining the flower she’d picked as she seemed to think, before smiling over to her fellow mage. “Well, I certainly like it better than _The Herald of Andraste_. It sounds... intimidating. Powerful.” She chuckled, twisting the stem between her fingers. “Of course, that all goes away when people get a look at me.”

“Hey, come on, Aster, I’ve seen you use the mark on your hand.” Dirt went flying as she pointedly waggled the freshly unearthed weed at her. “Between _that_ and your magic, you can be _plenty_ intimidating when you put your mind to it.”

Aster laughed. “That said,” she mused with a wistful smile, “It’s still nice to hear my own name. ‘Herald’, or ‘Inquisitor’… they both seem so much _bigger_ than me. Like, the person known as ‘Aster Lavellan’ might get swallowed up and forgotten.”

“Of course, most _everything_ is bigger than you.”

Aster just smacked her on the arm, sending both of them into a fit of giggling. “And how about you?” she asked once they’d quieted, kneeling beside her to help. “How are you all settling in?”

Talia huffed, brushing the bangs out of her face, and inadvertently smudging dirt across her forehead. “Oh, we’ve settled in just fine. The extra room in the new quarters is great, and I can’t thank you enough for letting me use the gardens for lessons. Not to mention,” she added with a grin, “I swear, if Rowan weren't Tranquil, they'd be jumping for joy.”

“I’m glad! How about the children?”

“Oh, they can’t get enough exploring the castle. Isn’t that right, Sam?” She asked the other girl working quietly next to her.

Sam nodded with a grin, glad for any excuse to be distracted from weeding. “We were helping with the cleaning this yesterday, and found a hidden vault in the basement!”

“Really?” Talia glanced over at Aster, who seemed just as surprised by this. “Well, that’s certainly an adventure! Anything interesting inside?”

Sam sighed, shoulders slumping. “I dunno, we couldn’t get in. Sister Leliana said she knows a good locksmith, though.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to.” Talia turned back to her own work, murmuring towards Aster. “... I know you said it was fine, but please, let me know if they’re bothering anyone.”

Aster shook her head. “No, no, they’ve been perfectly lovely.” She giggled. “Although, Josie said she found Sorrel hiding under her desk again this morning.”

Talia couldn’t help cocking one eyebrow, as she and Sam turned to look at each other. “... ‘ _Josie,’_ huh?” A smirk spread on both faces, and Talia leaned over to gently elbow Aster. “I didn’t realize you two were so... _close.”_

Aster’s head jerked up in surprise, cheeks flushed red. “What? Oh, nonono, no, _no_ , i-i-it’s not like that!”

The smirks widened. “Isn’t it?”

“It _isn’t!”_ she whined, waving her hands in front of her. “I-I’ve just been worried about the Ball coming up at the Winter Palace, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together so she can help me prepare, a-and…” She blushed harder, if that was even possible, absently fiddling with the fraying edge of her tunic. “She’s so pretty and elegant, there’s no way she’d be interested in me, anyways.”

Sam grinned. “So you _do_ like her!”

Aster’s eyes practically burned a hole in the ground. “I-I never said that!”

“Oh come oooonnn, admit iiiittt!!!!” Talia teased, both humans leaning forward to maintain eye contact.

“A-sterrr~,” Sam started in a familiar sing-song.

“- and _Joooo_ -sieee~,” Talia quickly caught on.

“Noooooo~” Aster protested weakly, picking up the nearest thing she could find (a book) and holding it over her face as if she could hide behind it.

“-Sittin’ in a treeeeee~,” Both continued in unison.

“Cut it ooouuuttt!!!”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-”

“Ok, ok!” She finally burst out, face as red as a tomato. “I give, I give, I like her!” She peeked out from behind the book. “So _please,_ stop it!!”

“Alright, alright,” Talia sat back, still grinning. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Sam added, returning to the spot where she’d been working before. “You should tell her, though!”

Talia nodded enthusiastically. “You should! You two would be great together!”

“.... You really think so?”

“Of course! You two are the nicest people I know, you're both _adorable_ , and you get along really well.” Talia smacked the dirt with her spade for emphasis. “A perfect match, if I ever saw one!”

Aster didn't have any response to that, other than a slow, bashful grin that spread across her face. Looking to change the topic, she glanced down at the book she had been using as a rather ineffective shield. “The Tale of the Champion, huh? You a fan of Varric’s?”

“Hmmm??” Talia glanced down, only seeming to just notice which book Aster was holding. “Ah! Uh, no, I was just, uh,” she coughed, “... doing some research.”

“For the Inquisition?”

“No, it’s more for my own curiosity.” She took the book from her, absently flipping through the pages. “Hawke _is_ from the Amell family, after all. I was taken so young, I can hardly remember anything at this point. I was hoping I could learn something about my home.”

“Wait, wait, I'm sorry, hold on... You're related to the _Champion of Kirkwall?”_

Talia nodded, continuing to flip until she found the page she’d been looking for. “Well, _distantly_ , anyways…. I think we may be, uuuuhhh…” Her brow furrowed, squinting as she skimmed. “... Ssssssseeeeeecond cousins? Cousins once removed? _Ugh_ , I can never remember.” She snapped the book shut, waving her hand as if to dismiss the topic. “Well, even if we’ve never met, and probably never will, it’s… interesting to learn about your family this way.” She sighed. “I _would_ like to meet her one day, though. She seems like an extraordinary woman.”

“Well, what about the rest of your family? Have you heard from them?”

Talia hesitated, biting her lip. “... I‘m… I’m actually not sure there’s anyone left.”

Aster clapped a hand to her mouth. “O-oh, goodness, _Ir abelas!_ I-I’m so sorry, I just assumed-“

“No, no, It’s fine, really! You didn’t know.” She sighed. “... All of my brothers and sisters were sent to different circles. I was the youngest, so by the time I came around, they were already gone.”

“Did you ever hear from them?”

“My eldest brother used to write me once in a while.” She sighed. “... Last I’d heard, he died in the Kirkwall Rebellion.”

“What about the others?”

“I’m not sure. I never learned which circles they were sent to. They might still be out there, but they could _all_ be dead, for all I know.”

“Hmmm….” Aster’s lips pursed as she considered this. “... Well, why don’t you ask the Grand Enchanter? If they’d ever met up with the mage rebellion, she would know.”

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

Aster nodded. “She’s been spending a lot of time in the library lately. Look her up next time you’re up there.”

Sam’s head swung up at that, eyes wide. ”There’s a library here?”  


* * *

 

An hour later, Sam was happily seated near Dorian with a fresh book to read, and Talia was off to search through the unfamiliar shelves. It was not a particularly large library, however, and she soon found who she was looking for, seated in a cozy-looking alcove.

“Pardon me, Grand Enchanter…” The elf looked up from her book, evidently surprised to have been sought out. Talia tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “... Do you have a moment?”

“Of course....” She set her book aside, marking her page for later. “Lady Amell, right? What can I do for you?”

Talia scuffed her feet on the floor, lips pinched as she tried to find the right words. “I, uh… how… _familiar_ are you with the mages who stood with you in Redcliffe?”

Fiona’s smile vanished, apparently all too familiar with this line of questioning. “ _Well,_ we were getting in new mages all the time, so there were many I was not... _particularly_ familiar with. Who were you looking for?”

“Well, um several people, actually… my family- that is, my brothers and sisters… they were all mages, too.”

“Ah, and they would have all been sent to different circles to keep the family separated.”

“ _Exactly._ My eldest brother was in Kirkwall when...” She coughed. “But I, uh, never managed to track down the others. Do you know if any Amells might have been in Redcliffe?”

“Hmm….” She shook her head, and Talia felt her hopes crash into the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry, I can’t recall anyone with that name. _However,”_ she continued, I can ask around and see what turns up. Even if they were never in Redcliffe, someone should at least have answers.”

“Ah, while you’re asking, there’s one more person... a Tranquil mage named Jowan.”

“A friend of yours?”

She nodded. “The circle practically fell apart when the vote went through, and I couldn’t find him after it was all over. I thought, maybe he'd followed the other mages to Redcliffe.”

Fiona’s brow furrowed, before she shook her head. “I don’t think I can remember a Jowan, either, but I’ll ask about him as well.

Talia smiled. “That’s more than I could have hoped for.” She nodded, turning to leave. “Thank you for your time, Grand Enchanter.”

“Before you go, Lady Amell...” Fiona called, shifting in her seat, “I have some questions of my own, if you don’t mind.” Talia hesitated, only for a moment, before turning back and taking the seat across from the Grand Enchanter.

“I know that this isn't truly any of my business, simply think of this as idle curiosity, but... why did _you_ not come to Redcliffe with the other mages? Traveling with and protecting so many defenseless children and tranquil…” She chuckled. “Well, given what nearly happened, perhaps it was for the best you didn’t come, but it would have been much safer in Redcliffe.”

“I... I must admit, Grand Enchanter, I was mostly being selfish. I'd never had the chance to travel, to explore the world... I fully intended to join the rebellion, but first I'd wanted to just... taste a bit of independence.” She shrugged. “... Then the conclave happened, and it was too dangerous after that.”

Fiona nodded. “I understand. My time with the Grey Wardens gave me my first taste of freedom... I do not fault you for your choices, I am only curious. There are still many mages who chose neither to align with the loyalists or the rebellion. I believe you’ve helped me better understand why. Thank you, Lady Amell.”

Talia bowed again, but hesitated to leave as the Grand Enchanter shifted, moving as if to ask something else, before seeming to think better of it.

“... Is there anything else I can help you with before I go?”

The woman pinched her lips together before nodding, staring off into a corner of the room. “There was a soldier you were tending to, during the journey from Haven... I believe his name is Alistair?”

Talia blinked, surprised. “Yes, uh... Leliana's Agent, I believe. What about him?”

She chewed her lip, brow furrowing. “Back in Redcliffe, there were… complaints. Nothing _serious,_ of course, but I suppose I... suppose I’m curious, to know what kind of man he is.”

“Well, uh… I haven’t exactly known him for very _long_ , but he seems kind. He gets along well with my students, and is fun to talk to, but… he doesn’t really talk about himself much. Plus, as I’m sure you’ve heard, he drinks like the world’s about to end. Which, to be fair,” she added, laughing, “It seems like it _is,_ half the time. I keep telling him he should be careful, but I can’t really _blame_ him.”

Fiona seemed to consider this before nodding. “I see. Thank you for indulging me, Lady Amell.”

“If you’re _really_ curious, why not speak to him? I’d be happy to introduce you.”

She shook her head. “It hardly matters, now.” She smiled. “Just the idle concerns of an old woman who suddenly finds herself with too much time on her hands. I’ll ask around about your siblings and your friend, Lady Amell. Someone may yet know of their fate.”  


* * *

 

“So she didn’t know _anything_ about them?”

Talia sighed. “Not even the name ‘Amell’, aside from me. If any of them are still alive, it would take a miracle to find them.” She took a swig of her drink, nose wrinkling at the taste before she turned to look at him. “Y _ou_ were in Redcliffe too, right? I don’t suppose _you_ might have come across any of them.”

“Well, I, uh…” Alistair rubbed his nose, gaze averted. “... wasn’t exactly on the, uh, _friendliest_ terms with most people in Redcliffe.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, swirling her drink in the bottom of her glass, “She _did_ mention something about that.”

“‘She’?” Alistair blinked. “‘She’ who... the Grand Enchanter?”

“Mmmhmm.” Talia nodded, taking another sip.

He blinked, surprised. “... She _‘mentioned’_ me?”

“Yes.”

“To you.”

“Yes.”

“ _I_ was a topic of conversation.”

“Yes.”

“... _why?”_

Talia shrugged. “She asked me about you, actually. Apparently a lot of the mages were complaining about you?”

“Aaaahhh, yeah,” he sighed, leaning back on the barstool. “The smell _does_ tend to put people off.”

She snorted, laughing into her mug. “I must say I _am_ surprised, though, that you chose to stay in Redcliffe when the mages kept harassing you. You said you have family out there, right?”

“Well, uh, _something_ like that. Arl Teagan’s brother raised me, so they’re kind of the closest thing I have.”

Talia's lips pinched together. “I, uh, I’m sorry if I’m prying, but if you don’t mind my asking… what about your parents?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I don’t mind. My mother died when I was born, and my father… well.” He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “.... Let’s just say my father wasn’t around.”

“... I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I couldn’t exactly _miss_ people I never knew.”

She sighed. “I know what you mean. I didn’t really know my siblings, either, and it's been so _long_ since I even _saw_ my parents... It's like, I miss the _idea_ of my family more than the actual people.”

Alistair sat there, staring into his mug, Talia wasn't even sure he'd been listening until he glanced over at her. “You know, it's funny... I was just thinking, you know... I mean, I know it's not _permanent_ , but uh, you, with the children, and Rowan, and Joshua... through a lot of things, you all stuck together. They may not be _blood_ , but... ”

“... Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” She smiled. “I guess I hadn't really thought about it that way.”

“Well, it's like I always say....” He leaned back, staring at a point somewhere past the “One good thing about disasters like these, whether it's a Blight, or the Circles dissolving, or a Hole in the sky... is how it brings people together.”

She lifted an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk playing across her lips. “You _always_ say that?”

He blanched, mentally backtracking. “I, uh, ok, maybe not _always,_ but...”

She laughed. “No, no, I know what you mean. I think so too.”

The two smiled at each other, before Alistair kind of caught himself, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat. “Well,” he coughed, one side of his mouth twitching up. “Here’s to family, then.”

She tapped her mug to his. “To family.”

They both took that opportunity to drain their mugs, and Alistair was about to order another round when they were interrupted by a voice behind them.

“There you are!” The two turned to find Varric and Aster, the latter being the speaker. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Talia, but can we borrow you for a minute?”

Talia started to apologize, but Alistair just smiled, waving her off. “Go on, you’ve got better things to do than check in on your old patients.”

Talia smiled, sliding of her seat to follow the other two. “Alright, then, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“So,” Talia asked as they climbed the stairs to the second story, “What do you need me for? Is something wrong? Should I be worried?”

“No, no,” Varric called behind him, “Nothing like that.”

Aster grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

A surprise? What kind of surprise could it be? Her mind wandered on the subject as she followed her companions up to the parapets. Something for the kids, maybe? A new plant for the garden? … Bees, perhaps? Sera had been saying something about bees, hadn’t she? Maybe it was bees.

One thing was for certain, though: the last thing she was expecting was the Champion of Fucking Kirkwall.

“It is my pleasure,” Varric drawled, grin stretching from ear to ear, “To introduce the Champion of Kirkwall, my best friend, Rivka Hawke. Hawke, this is Talia Amell, Mage and Healer of the Ferelden Circle.” His grin widened, a feat most would think impossible. “I _believe_ you two have a few things in common.”

Talia stood, mouth agape, as Hawke stepped forward. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Amell.” An easy smile sat on her face as she extended a hand for a handshake. “Varric's told me a lot about you.”

Talia mechanically returned the handshake as she stared at the woman standing before her- Hawke looked just like, and also entirely _un_ like, the pictures she'd seen. The illustrations had varied wildly enough that she only had a vague sense of what the woman was _supposed_ to look like. The nose, very similar to her own, was as she'd expected, as well as the hair, a dark auburn tied back into a lose ponytail. What was most different from her imagination was the eyes- in all the pictures she’d seen, they were sharp, keen, confident. In reality, Hawke had the eyes of someone who hadn’t slept well in a long, long time.

Talia tried to find something, _anything,_ to say in response, but her mouth simply flapped open and shut as she failed to find the words. “Wow,” Varric whispered, grinning up at the confused Hawke, “I've never seen her speechless before. That's a first.” Aster giggled.

Tears finally welled up as Talia leaned down to smack the dwarf in the arm. “ _Maker,_ Varric,” She croaked, “You could have _warned_ me!” She sniffled, laughing despite the tears. “I-I wasn't _ready_ for this!”

The others laughed as she blubbered, Hawke offering a handkerchief as she leaned over to peer into her face.

“Well,” she mused, “That _is_ the family nose… You're _definitely_ an Amell.”

Talia wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, a shaky smile emerging. “I remember, Grandpa Fausten had this joke. ‘Amells can’t surprise anyone, because-’”

“‘-Our noses arrive five minutes ahead of us.’” Hawke chuckled, rubbing at her own nose with a knuckle. “My mother used to say the same thing. I... _believe_ our mothers were cousins, yes?”

Talia nodded. “I’m Revka Amell’s youngest. You’re mother was… Leandra?”

“Yes. They must have been close, I think. My mother did _kind of_ name me after yours.” Hawke smiled. “I know we've just met, but, I hope… I hope we can be just as close, some day.”

Talia nodded, smiling back as tears welled back up. “I hope so, too.”

The two of them continued, questions and anecdotes alike gushing between them, before Talia noticed Aster and Varric smirking at each off to one side.

“Varric... You realize Cassandra's going to _kill_ you.”


	13. Look on the Blight Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke’s arrival brought several things, including a fun new Inquisition-wide betting pool. Dozens of people placed bets on exactly how Cassandra was going to kill Varric.
> 
> It brought the only family Talia Amell had seen since she was 6. The two could often be found together, talking about anything and everything.
> 
> And finally, it brought one more Grey Warden.

Hawke’s arrival brought several things, including a fun new Inquisition-wide betting pool. Dozens of people placed bets on exactly how Cassandra was going to kill Varric. (Joshua ended up winning, being the only one to guess “throwing furniture”. He used the money to buy supplies for the healers, much to everyone's disappointment. “Why did a tranquil even enter the betting pool?” Talia heard someone mutter.)

It brought the only family Talia Amell had seen since she was 6. The two could often be found together, talking about anything and everything.

And finally, it brought one more Grey Warden.

Alistair blinked. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, thudding himself on the side of the head a few times. “I-I think the Calling must be getting worse. I could have _sworn_ you just said… _Loghain’s_ helping the Inquisition. But,” he laughed, “Of course, _that_ can’t be right.”

“No, your hearing is sound. Loghain Mac Tir will be working with the Inquisition, for the time being.” Leliana straightened some paperwork on her desk, nonchalantly flipping through the stack. “I’ll need you two to work together.”

“W-work to- the man is a _traitor_ , Leliana!” Alistair’s voice rang through the rafters, audible all the way down to where Solas was busy painting. “You _know_ what he did at Ostagar! You know what he did to _us!”_

“Yes, and I also know what he did _with_ us.” Any reply he had was stopped short by the look she gave him, eyes burning cold. “... When we needed help fighting the darkspawn, he kept his oath to us, _and_ to the Wardens. He’s been _nothing_ but loyal to the Wardens for the last _ten years._ It’s been a long time, Alistair. People _change_.”

“... That may be, but... _nothing_ can change what he did.”

She considered this, nodding slowly. “That _is_ true. Regardless, we needed help, and...” She sighed, rubbing her brow in frustration.” “... And he was _there,_ Alistair.”

 _That_ shut him up. He stared at her, his hands trembling at his sides. She didn't say anything else, but she didn't need to. Her eyes said it all- _That's more than I can say for you._

The fight in him drained, and he sank down into the seat opposite her. After some time, he felt her approach, before laying a hand on his arm.

“... He’s the only person we have with any _real_ information on the Grey Wardens. We _need_ him, Alistair.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “... And what information _does_ he have?”

“Where the Wardens are, what they're planning, and... and the Calling.”

He jolted upright at that, eyes wide. “The Calling? What, wh-what about the Calling?”

She couldn't hold back a faint smile. “It seems that _all_ of the Wardens have been hearing it. Loghain and Hawke think that Corypheus is using his connection to the Darkspawn Taint to cause it, somehow.”

Alistairs head swam. “I.. I uh… you mean… th-that _I...”_

“... May have more time than you thought.”

This was too much. He didn’t even know what to think. Most would be happy to know that they weren’t dying. He was too overwhelmed to be _anything_ , let alone _happy._

“But we need to investigate to find out for sure. Loghain knows the situation better than anyone, and we can't do this without _either_ of you. I _need_ your help with this.”

His mouth screwed up, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself enough to speak. His voice broke when he did. “You… you can’t ask me to _do_ this!”

Her gaze hardened. “I’m not asking you, Alistair, I’m _telling_ you. You don’t have to be _nice_ to him, but you will be _civil._ Is that understood?”

His teeth ground together, knuckles turning white, but he managed to nod before jolting to his feet, turning brusquely to leave the room.

“Where are you going, Alistair?”

He all but spat over his shoulder. “To get a _drink.”_

 

* * *

 

“Well, hey, uh... it’s not _all_ bad, right?”

Alistair only grumbled for a reply.

“I mean, your… what’s it called again?”

Alistair wasn’t responding, so Blackwall supplied the answer. “The _Calling.”_

“ _Right,_ that! Anyway, it’s not _real_ , yeah? It’s just Coryphe-tits, or whatever his name is. Gettin’ inside you’re head an’ all that.” She took another swig of beer, letting out a satisfied hiss of air as she grinned over at him. “Now you can stop _whining_ all the time about how you’re _dying,_ or whatever.”

Alistair snorted at that, peering at her out of the corner of her eye. “ _So_ glad to have your sympathy, Sera.”

She just flashed a grin, socking him on the shoulder. “That's what friends 're for, yeah?”

“She’s right, though, Lad.” Blackwall chimed in. “You should look on the bright side.”

Alistair scoffed, giving him a look that would have made a lesser man wither like a plant in the desert. “ _‘The bright side'_ … How can I look on the bright side? How'm I supposed to jus' ‘ _look on the bright side’_ after everything that man has done?” He waved one arm for emphasis, not caring that his drink spilled. Sera and Blackwall gave each other a Look.

“ _That man,”_ he continued, voice growing louder, “Betrayed his King, left his troops _and_ Wardens to die, sent an _assassin_ after us, _sold elves_ into _slavery,_ imprisoned his _own daughter_ … and you ask me to look on the bright side?”

“... Well, uh,” Blackwall coughed. “When you list it all out like _that_ , I s'ppose not.”

“You _see?_ You see what I mean? And _she_ asks me to to work with him, like nothing happened!” He threw his head back, draining his beer in one go before slamming the mug down. “Not _fucking_ likely.” He got another beer, and he threw that one back as well. He blinked rapidly, lips pinching together as he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I... I couldn't do it _ten years ago_... how could she ask me to now?”

“Hey, slow down there, lad,” Blackwall cautioned, stopping Alistair's hand as it rose to order more. “I thought you'd promised Sister Leliana you'd cut back.”

“ _Yeah,_ well,” he choked, shrugging the man off, _“That_ was before she decided it was fine to work with a _traitor.”_

“If you’re _that_ upset, why don’t you quit?”

Alistair blinked, wavering on his barstool. Quit? He hadn’t considered that. Why hadn’t he considered that? “I... I don't know.”

He stared into his mug, a bleary-eyed, disheveled man staring back at him out of the murky liquid. _Yeesh, what a wreck. Poor bastard._ He could see tears welling up in the mans eyes, his mouth screwing up as they spilled over. He wrenched his gaze away, unable to stand looking himself in the eye, and buried his face in his hands.

“... Where else would I go?”


	14. Let It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole tries to help.

_Duncan smiles, hand outstretched in welcome. Grigor laughs, and it fills the whole room, hurting my head. Cailan, my brother, a stranger, claps Loghain on the back. He doesn’t know. None of them know._

_It should have been me._

 

I open my eyes.

Something hurts, down in the tavern. A lot of people in the tavern are hurt, of course. But this is worse than usual. An old wound, reopened.

 

_How can she ask me to forget? How can she ask me to fight with him? Invite him as a brother? How could she do this?_

 

I don’t _try_ to go in their heads. I know they don’t like it. Their feelings just come to me, like waves on the shore. I can’t help it anymore than the ocean can help the tide.

I stand up, following the thread to the source. There’s a lot. I try to untangle as I drift down the stairs. For a moment, I think I lose the thread, before it comes back.

 

_How could she do this?_

 

There it is again. ‘She’. Is there a name? Yes, two of them, so snarled I can't separate them.

I find the end of one. It’s familiar. Leliana. Not the source, but she took the old hurt and made it new.

The other…

 

_She stands to one side, small, stocky, and smart-mouthed. Tattoo under one eye. “You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together.” One eyebrow goes up. “You are... a very strange human,” she says. But she smiles._

 

Someone from long ago.

 

“ _I’ve made my decision.”_

 

Someone he wants to forget.

I can help.

I find him lying in the floor of the tavern. Blackwall and Sera are there, shaking him, trying to wake him up.

“We should get him out of here, Sera. Fresh air will do him good.”

“Alright,” She concedes, then pulls out a paintbrush. “Let me just try one more thing.”

“ _Sera.”_

While they argue, I look at him. A Grey Warden, a real one. Not that Blackwall _isn’t_ real, but this one has the connection. If I listen carefully, I can hear it. The music. I’ve heard it before. The darkspawn hear it too. It’s what connects them. It calls to them. It calls to me, too.

I don’t like it very much.

I can see how it hurts him. How it digs in and refuses to leave. The song isn’t something I can fix, but… I can do something.

I step forward, cautious. Blackwall notices, and sits back to look at me.

“I can help,” I say.

Sera jumps, then groans when she sees me. “Oh, _great,_ now _this_ thing’s here. Go on, just _go_ \- be creepy somewhere else.”

“I can help,” I say again. I look at him on the floor. “Please, let me help.”

She swipes at me with one arm. “No! Get _away_ from him!”

I back away like she asks, melting into a corner. Blackwall gives Sera a look.

“It can’t hurt to let him try.”

“What, so it can use its demon mumbo jumbo on him? _No thanks._ His head’s messed up enough as it is.”

I wasn’t going to mess up his head. Just help him forget, so he can move on.

I sit in my corner, watch them try to wake him up. I want to help, but Sera told me not to. Aster said I should just listen and leave it alone if my help isn’t wanted. Sometimes my way of helping isn’t the best way.

I want to help. I can’t do anything myself, but maybe someone else can do what I can’t. But who?

I close my eyes, and listen.

 

_That could have been me._

_Monsters in armor I used to wear._

_Pain, white and hot, screams through my head, and then nothing._

_Warmth. This tea tastes awful, but it dulls the pain. She smiles, easing pain the medicine can’t reach._

 

The healer.

She can help. If not with the emotions, then at least with the alcohol poisoning.

 

* * *

 

I find her sleeping in a room with several others- children, and tranquil. She’s closest to the door, so it’s not hard to approach silently.  
  
“Talia.” I whisper.  
  
Nothing. I try again, louder this time. “Talia, please, wake up.”  
  
She grunts, eyes cracking open. They take a moment to focus, but she sees me.  
  
“... Cole?” She moans, rubs her eyes. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but your friend needs help.”  
  
She blinks. Her eyes are open, but she’s not quite awake yet. “... My friend?”  
  
“Alistair. He drank too much to dull the hurt, but it just made it louder. Sera told me not to help, that I’d just make it worse. But I… I _need_ to… I _can’t_ just-”  
  
“Hey, hey, shoosh, it’s ok.” She pats me on the arm. “It’s ok, Cole, I’ll come. I dunno if I can help, but I’ll try.”  
  
I sigh. “Thank you.”  
  
They’re outside the tavern when I find them, Talia behind me. The Iron Bull cradles Alistair like a baby. Sera spots us, and starts waving her arms.  
  
“Oh good, Talia, you’re here!” She slaps Alistair’s arm. “We were _just_ about to dump this lump in a cold bath, see if it’ll sober him up. Come help us.”

Talia laughs. “Wow, that is a _terrible_ idea!”

“What, won’t it wake him up?”

“ _Maker,_ no! If anything, the shock will just make him _worse._ Maybe even kill him.” She puts the back of her hand to his forehead. “Temperature’s already low, too…”

The Iron Bull grunts. “Alright, then where _do_ you want me to put him? I can’t carry him all night.” The others look at him. “Ok, fine, I can, but I don’t _want_ to.”

“How much did he drink?”

Sera and Blackwall look at each other, then shrug. “I dunno… way more than usual.”

She sighs. “Well, passed out like this, there’s not a lot we can do other than keep an eye on him, and try to get something in him that’s _not_ alcohol. Let’s bring him back to his room.”

The Iron Bull nods. I say nothing, and follow them. The room is small, but there’s a bed. The Iron Bull eases him in, lying him on his side the way Talia tells him to. They find some blankets, and he is soon covered.

Talia checks his pulse and temperature while the others shuffle their feet, uneasy just watching. The Iron Bull is the first to speak. “Is there, uh, anything we can do to help, or…”

She sighs and wipes her forehead. “I can try a few healing spells, but if someone can bring some hot water, that would help.”

The Iron Bull nods, and leaves. “Anything else?” Blackwall asks.

Talia shakes her head. “You go get some rest. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Thank you for your help, Lady Amell.”

She smiles. “You should thank Cole, too. He’s the one who came for me.”

They all turn to look at me, surprise on their faces. “... Sera told me not to help my way. So I brought someone who can.”

Sera scowls like always, but the skin around Blackwall's eyes wrinkles when he smiles. “Good lad,” He whispers, before they leave the room together. The Iron Bull soon returns with water, and is gone again.

Talia searches her pack. She pulls out several plants, crushes them, and sprinkles into the water. Time passes, and she tries to help him drink some. It’s difficult, but she manages.

A stool sits by the bed. She groans as she thumps down onto it. “I know he had a… thing with drinking, but I’ve never seen him get this bad.” She sighs. “I wonder what happened.”

 

“ _The sun is blinding outside.”_

 

Talia jumps. She forgot I was here. It happens.

 

“ _Disappointment sinks like a rock in my stomach. Why did I come here?”_

 

She blinks, her mouth open. She wants to say something, but doesn’t. She waits, and listens.

 

“ _Hand on my arm, strong yet soft. Her voice is stone, but her eyes show the gooey center she doesn’t want others to see. ‘Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.’ Her words hurt. Not just me, but her, too. I see it in her eyes. She doesn’t want it to be true. But it is. The truth makes me stronger._

_She smiles, and calls me ‘Brother.’”  
_

 

Talia says nothing for a few seconds.  
  
“... Is that… him? His memories?”  
  
I nod.  
  
“That’s what’s hurting him?”  
  
“... Part of it.”

  
  
“‘ _If he dies, you'll get your Justice. If he doesn't, we have one more Warden to fight the Blight.’_

_Her voice is stone. Her face is stone. Her eyes are stone._

_No more gooey center._

‘ _I’ve made my decision.’_

_She called me ‘Brother’._

_I thought she’d choose me._

_Just as well._

_It was stupid to think that I’m wanted anywhere.”_

 

Talia doesn’t breathe. She forgets how, and then remembers again.

I move, crouching in front of her. “.... He reminds you of someone.”

She nods. Tears swell and overflow. This time, it comes from her.

 

“ _Smiles and stories shared when the lights go out. A hug and a promise in the dead of night.”_

 

I pause, look up at her. “... What was the promise?”

Toes curl in her boots. She tucks hair behind one ear. “I…” She swallows, looks at the floor. “... There were a lot of promises.”

 

“ _From now on, no matter what, we stick together. Always.” Our pinkies lock together. “I won’t go anywhere without you, and you won’t go anywhere without me. Got it?”_

“ _I need to escape! I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it they can’t track me down. Lily and I can’t do this on our own. We need your help.” He doesn’t ask me to come. My stomach twists in on itself, but I nod. Of course I’ll help. He would do the same for me._

“ _He’s going to try to destroy his phylactery!” It’s out before I can stop it. Tears blur my vision. “He’s not a blood Mage! Irving, please, you have to do something. You can’t let this happen!”_

“ _Blood gushes, and the power hits like a wave. Darkness fades, and he’s gone. When he comes back, it’s different. The same body, but it’s empty. The sunburst mark a reminder of broken promises.”_

 

She wipes her eyes. “I… I thought I could make everything ok. That if I could just explain everything, that it would be fine, and he could stay.” She bites her lip. “... But I was a selfish fool. Blood Mage or not, promise or no promise, he was like a brother to me. I should have done more.”

“... You didn’t make him tranquil, Talia.”

“No, but... I may as well have."

The room falls silent again, and I sit back. We both turn towards Alistair, and we watch.

After a while, Talia breaks the silence. “... Do you… _like..._ doing that?”

“... Doing what?”

“That thing where you go in people’s heads and dredge up painful memories.”

“... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, no. It’s ok, I know you can’t help it. It… it _does_ help to talk about it. I think.”

I nod. “That’s good.”

“... You didn’t answer my question.”

I think for a moment. “I’m drawn to the hurt. Or it’s drawn to me, I’m… I’m not always sure which. I’m happy when I can help, but sometimes, I make it worse. I try to pull it out and it tears, or it’s so tangled I can’t do anything. I don’t want to make it worse, but it’s hard to do nothing.”

She nods, one hand covers her mouth, and looks at me. “... I see.”

“I can stop if you don’t like it.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, I think I understand. It’s like... a kind of healing, what you do. I can only heal the wounds I can _see_. You can see... _different_ wounds.”

That sounds about right. “What about now? There isn’t a wound, you can’t see what’s hurting him.”

Her nose wrinkles.“No, but I could smell the booze from 50 feet away.”

I nod, and we go back to watching. The quiet is nice. He moves sometimes, or groans, but he doesn’t wake up. Talia only moves to check his breathing and pulse, or to coax more liquid down his throat. At one point I ask her what it is.

“It’s just spindleweed tea with lemon juice.” She looks down at the mixture, brow furrowed. “It should help get the alcohol out of his system more quickly, but I hope the lemon helps with the taste. It _does_ at least add some vitamins, which can’t hurt.”

Alistair moves again, and we stop talking to watch. He groans. His eyes open. “Uggghhh.... wh-where am I?”

She smiles, relief flooding through her. “Glad to see you awake. How do you feel?”

He groans. “Like _shit._ ”

Her eyebrows go up, and her smile is wider. “I _see. Very_ poetic.”

His eyes are unfocused, not seeing her, until he does. “... you didn’t have to take my clothes off again, did you?”

Talia laughs, and he moans again, but smiles, too. The noise hurts his head, but he’s happy he made it happen.

“Can you sit up?” She asks. “You need to drink more, if you don’t want to feel this in the morning. I have some tea here.” Her voice becomes a song. “It’s your faaaaavoriiiiite~!”

His nose wrinkles. “Not more spindleweed?”

She grins, holds the cup out to him. “This time with lemon!”

He pouts. “Do I _have to?”_

“Doctors orders, I'm afraid.”

He sighs, and takes the mug. We sit in comfortable silence while he drinks.

Talia is the first to speak. “Hey, so, uh…”

He puts the mug down and looks at her.

“I... know we haven’t known each other very long, and maybe it’s none of my business, but…” she coughs, her hands grasp for the words. “If you have any problems, or have anything on your mind…” She glances back to me. “Sometimes… sometimes, talking about it can help.” She looks back to him. “Or at least, it's gotta be healthier than drinking yourself half to death.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “Hey, I haven't made a single healthy choice in my life so far, and I'm not about to start now.”

She chuckles, and takes one of his hands in both of hers. His ears turn red. “Regardless, if you ever need to talk, you can always talk to me. Okay?”

The red spread over his face. He nods. “Okay.”

“Feel free, just let it out.”

Now his face is green. “I-I think _something’s_ about to come out.” Talia is confused, but her eyes go wide when she understands. She looks around the room. _Something. Anything. A bucket._ Her eyes land on me. _That’ll work._ Before I realize what ‘that’ is, she snatches my hat, thrusts it in front of him.

And he lets it out.

Alistair wipes his mouth, and sighs. “Ah, that actually feels better.”

“.... Sorry, Cole.”

 I liked that hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter briefly references another fic of mine, [Let Down Your Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596151). If you want more insight/context to Talia and Jowan's relationship, please check it out!


	15. Hangover Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is TALIA AMELL. You find yourself standing in a sickroom. You see your PATIENT, lying in bed, with the mother of all hangovers. To his left you see a glass of WATER on the nightstand.  
> Obvious exits are EAST.
> 
>  
> 
> What will you do?
> 
> >|

The next morning, Alistair had discovered a new meaning to the word _Regret._

Regret throbbed though his head, driving out all other sensation. It felt an awful lot like pain, he thought, but so much worse. Was it because it was all self inflicted? Yes, that must be it.

The pain did fade, occasionally, but that just let _the song_ come washing back in. Knowing it wasn't the _real_ calling didn't make hearing it any better. It still grated like nothing else. It made him miss the regret-pain, a least until a fresh bout of it came throbbing back into his temple.

He groaned as the latest wave washed over him, turning to bury his face deeper into the pillows. The noise and movement alerted his nearby companion, reading on a stool nearby.

“You awake?” He grunted, which she took as a yes. “How're we feeling today?”

“... Like someone drove a metal spike through my head.”

Talia winced. “Oof... well, that’s hardly unexpected, given the circumstances.” She leaned forward when he didn't respond. “... You wanna try to get up?”

Something moved under the covers in a way that vaguely resembled someone shaking their head, and Talia considered other options.

“Yoooouuu wanna go back to sleep?”

The blanket blob seemed to be nodding this time.

“Ok, you sleep for a while longer” She stood up and tiptoed to the door. “I'll see if I can find something else to help for when you wake up. Mmmkay?”

The blob grunted. “... thanks, Talia.”

“You're welcome.”

 

* * *

 

Dagna offered Talia a glass of tea while she shuffled through piles of notes. “Hangover cure, hangover cure...” She held up one paper to the light. “Well, if it's pain relief we're looking for... maybe I could isolate components in elfroot and spindleweed and make a more concentrated potion?”

Talia's eyebrows shot up at that. “That might work! How long would that take?”

“A good day, at least- ah, that won't help your friend, will it?”

Talia sighed. “Sadly, no.”

“Well, then, not much else I can offer than emotional support.” Her nose wrinkled. “Or, there's always the advice my grandfather _loved_ giving.”

“What’s that?”

“Go take a shit.”

Talia had chosen the wrong time to sip her tea, spraying a fine mist before she burst out laughing.

“He did _Not!”_

“He absolutely did!”

“ _Your_ grandfather...”

“Yes.”

“Told _you_...”

“Told my _Uncle_ , actually.”

“... in so many words... to _'go take a shit'_ to get rid of a hangover.”

“Yes.”

“... Did it work?”

“ _I_ don't know! I was never stupid enough to try it!”

Talia shook her head with a sardonic grin. “Well, thanks anyways. I'll keep asking.”

  


  


Next was Dorian. Talia found him at the chess set. His opponent was so focused on the game that he didn't notice her approaching.

“... Who's winning?”

Cullen nearly yelped as he jumped out of his seat, scattering several pieces and sending Dorian into uproarious laughter. “I don’t think we’ll ever know, it seems!” He hooted.

Cullen briefly tried to stutter a reply before pressing his lips into a grim line and silently kneeling to gather the scattered pieces. When he’d reset the board to the best of his memory, he turned to face the mage waiting behind him.

“W-” he seemed to choke on the word, and coughed several times to clear his throat. “... Was there something you needed, Lady Amell?”

“Er… yes, I had a question for Dorian, but I don’t mind waiting...”

“No, no! Not at all, I, er…” He coughed again. “Oh, my, I... I hadn’t realized the time, I have, uh, a-a meeting. I’m sorry, Dorian, we’ll have to finish another time.” And with a short bow, he turned on his heel and walked off before either had a chance to reply.

“You’re just leaving because I was winning!” Dorian called after him, but the templar simply disappeared around a corner. “... Well, _that_ was interesting.” He mused aloud.

Talia simply sighed. “You see? He couldn’t get away fast enough once I showed up. I don’t know what his deal is.”

Dorian just shrugged. “He _is_ a templar. Maybe it’s because you’re a Mage...?”

Talia's brow furrowed as she squinted at him, incredulous. “ _... You’re_ a Mage!!”

He laughed, an easy lopsided grin on his face. “You’ve got me there! Now, you said you had a question for me…?”

“A question… oh, yes! Yes, right, of course! I’m looking for a hangover cure.”

“A hangover cure?” Dorian frowned, bordering on a pout. “Talia... did you have fun without me? I must say, I'm hurt.”

She smirked, playing along. “Wounded, even?”

“Positively _crushed.”_

She laughed, smirk widening to a grin. “Well you can relax, because I'm not the one who needs it. It's for one of my patients.”

One eyebrow quirked upward. “It wouldn’t happen to be that Alistair fellow again, would it?”

She sighed. “ _Yes,_ it’s for him. It was awful, Dorian. I swear, I’ve never seen someone in as bad a state as he was in last night.” She glanced up at him. “... I don’t suppose anyone in the Tevinter Imperium developed a magical cure for hangovers?”

Dorian waved his hand flippantly. “Unfortunately, the hangover is the one puzzle we have yet to solve. We have to muddle through our mistakes the the next day, the same as the rest of you.”

“And how do you _usually_ muddle through your mistakes and regrets the day after?”

“Hmmm... there’s a drink, a sort of fermented tea, that’s become popular in Minrathous of late. I drink it with cayenne pepper when I'm feeling _particularly_ bad the next morning.”

“Really...?” Her brow furrowed. “... How's it taste?”

“Oh, it's _disgusting,_ but it gets the job done.”

She laughed at that. “Well, it can’t be any worse than the spindleweed I’ve been forcing into the poor boy.”

  


  


Solas was, as always, more than eager to teach. However, today his advice wasn’t exactly what Talia was looking for.

“Well, common wisdom dictates that moderating one's drinking is the best way to avoid a hangover.”

Talia rolled her eyes. “Woooow, _thanks,_ Solas,” she drawled, her words dripping with sarcasm, “That's _veeeerrrry_ helpful. How did _I_ not think of that?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “My apologies, Talia. It's been quite a while since I've been in such a state. I _do_ remember something I saw in the fade, however. Warriors, tired and in pain after a long night celebrating, rallied again with a bath in natural hot springs.”

“Hot spring bath? Well, that's _something_.” Her head quirked to one side. “I don't suppose there are any secret hot springs in Skyhold, are there?”

He shook his head. “None I'm aware of. Regardless, maybe a hot bath could provide some relief.”

  


  
  
Talia found Varric to be much more helpful.

“I lived in a bar back in Kirkwall, Nosey. I’ve heard _all_ the hangover cures.”

Talia's face brightened at that. “Anything good?”

“Best hangover cure I’ve ever _tried_ is a big, hot breakfast and a hot bath.”

“Hmmm, sounds reasonable enough, if not a bit simple. That's _basically_ the same thing Solas said, actually.” She cocked her head to one side. “I'm almost scared to ask, but.... what’s the _worst_ one you’ve heard of?”

He sighed heavily. “Taking a goooood shit.”

She burst out laughing at that, doubled over for a good minute. “You know,” she managed to wheeze, wiping a tear from her eye, “That’s the second time I’ve heard that advice today.”

“Can't tell you how many times the old coots back in Kirkwall kicked that one around. Not sure if they were being genuine, or if it was Thedas' most well-coordinated prank.”

  


  


Vivienne was as terrifyingly prepared for this as she was for everything else.

“Of _course_ I know a good cure, my dear. Playing the game, one must never show weakness.” As if from nowhere, she produced a small case of various vials, many full of mysterious and strong smelling liquids. One vial just had a pinch of powder in it, while another had what seemed to be a live plant, growing and everything.

Talia carefully looked at all of them. “Er... what do you recommend?”

“I'm particularly fond of these,” she said, removing several of the fouler smelling liquids. “This one has been quite popular this year,” she added, indicating what seemed to be slices of a root vegetable. “But _this_ one,” she concluded, pulling out a vial stuffed with several colorful orbs, “Is my favorite.”

Talia peered into the vial. The orbs didn't look like any medicine she'd ever seen before. “What is it?”

“Candy.”

“ _Candy?”_

Vivienne's smile broadened. “Well, of _course,_ my dear.”

Talia tried to put her bafflement into words. “I, uh... d-does it have anything in it that-”

“Oh, _no,_ nonono, it's not a cure for the _hangover_ , per se. Think of it as... a hangover cure _cure._ Believe me, after the others, he'll _need_ these.”  
  
  


  


Blackwall glanced up from the carving he was working on as she entered his barn. “How's the lad holding up, Lady Amell?”

Talia sighed. “He'll live, he's just got the mother of all hangovers. I’m trying to scrounge something up for him while he rests, but I’m not sure if any of it will work.” She quirked her head to one side. “I don’t suppose _you_ have any good tips for dealing with hangovers?”

Blackwall stroked his beard. “Well, I’ve got _one_ , but, uh… I’m not sure how to say it in polite language.”

Talia laughed. _“_ _Please,_ Ser Blackwall, you _really_ don’t need to worry about my delicate sensibilities. If it might help, I’m willing to give it a try.”

“.... Has he tried taking a shit yet?”

 

* * *

 

“And you said _h_ _ow_ many people suggested...?”

Talia groaned. “At _least_ four. I swear, I’ve _never_ heard of this before today, and then- _bam,_ four different people, from _completely_ different parts of Thedas, all suggest the same thing in one day. It’s… _absolutely_ unbelievable.”

Alistair had awoken to a strange assortment of foods, drinks and concoctions being dumped onto him, but was now doing his best to try at least all of them. He'd enjoyed the hot breakfast she'd managed to scrounge up, but his nose wrinkled at the drink she’d set alongside it. “Ugh… and, uh, what did you say _this_ was?”

“Oh, dear, what did Dorian call it again? 'Kombucha', I think.”

“How does it smell _worse_ than the spindleweed?”

Talia laughed, stopping short when he winced at the noise. “Ah- Sorry! Sorry… Dorian swore by it, though. Said it’s supposed to help flush out toxins.”

He shrugged, sniffed it again, sighed and threw the whole thing back in one go. His eyes went wide, but he managed to swallow thickly before gasping for air. “Blech!” Tears pricked at the corner of his eye as he fumbled for his water, chugging it as well. “H-how is it _spicy_?”

“Spicy?” Talia asked, eyebrows lifted in mock innocence. “Oh, right, I _think_ Dorian said something about cayenne pepper being important.”

Alistair squinted up at her. “... Are you sure he's not just playing a horrible prank on me?”

She grinned. “With him, I'm never sure.”

He peered about at the vast arsenal of cures still jumbled around him, chose another at random and took a hesitant sip. His eyebrows shot up and he tried it again. “... That's actually really nice. What was that?”

“Cole didn't say, he just told me it should help.”

“I owe him a lot, it seems.”

Talia laughed.“You feeling better, then?”

He sat back, sighing. “I do, actually. Head still hurts, but it's “ He smiled up at her sheepishly. “Thanks for getting all of this for me. And, really, for everything.”

“Please, don't worry about it. The way you were last night, I couldn't have just _left_ you!”

He groaned, massaging his temple. “I can't believe I drank that much. And after I promised Leliana I'd cut back.” He paused as something seemed to dawn on him, then groaned again, burying his face in his hands. _“Maker,_ and the way I _yelled_ at her yesterday... she was just trying to- and I- _uugggh.”_

“H-hey, now, don't be so down on yourself, I'm sure it can't be that bad.” She hesitated. “... Is that why you, uh, drank that much yesterday? You got in a fight with Leliana?”

“... Not quite. It was a lot of things all at once, really. The _last_ person I wanted to see showed up, and she wanted me to work with him, and in the middle of all _that_ is when I learned that I....” he sighed, running one hand back through his hair. “... It's a long story. You don't want to hear about it.”

She sat back on her stool. “I have time.”

He nodded slowly, considering. “Alright, so... you know the Grey Warden that Hawke brought in?”

“Ser Loghain? Of course! Everyone in Ferelden knows who he is, for better or worse.”

“Yeah, well, let's just say he and I have a history...”

 


	16. "Civil"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one reunion Alistair did NOT look forward to.

He wasn't ready for this.

Even though he'd been mentally preparing himself ever since he'd recovered, there was absolutely no way he'd have been ready the first time he saw him.

But there he stood.

Ser Loghain Mac Tir.

The Hero of River Dane.

The man who'd abandoned his King.

The reason Duncan had died before his time.

The _Traitor._

Standing there as if he belonged here. As if he'd _earned_ that blue and silver armor. He grit his teeth as he watched the man speak with the Inquisitor.

 _You don't have to be nice to him, but you will be **civil.**_ Leliana's words chose both the best and worst time to come back to him. Quick enough to keep him from punching the man in the face, but too quick to give him the satisfaction of punching the man in the face.

With a sigh, he released his fist, letting his hand dangle loosely at his side. _Well_ , he thought, _lets get this over with._

The Inquisitor was the first of the two to notice him approach. He noticed a brief flash of worry crossing her face before she broke out into a toothy grin. “Hey, Alistair! Glad to see you back on your feet. I hear you'll be working with Ser Loghain here.”

Loghain's posture seemed to stiffen, before turning to face him. The man moved like a glacier, slow but unyielding. His eyes did a slow sweep before finally looking him in the eye. “... So it's true! Alistair's working for the Inquisition, now.” Aster glanced between the two, obviously nervous as Loghain crossed his arms over his chest. “I'd _heard_ you'd joined, but I had difficulty believing you'd managed to sober up long enough to do _anything_.”

Alistair's jaw clenched, but he managed a grim smile. “It's been a long time, Loghain. Doing well, I take it? Committed any treason, lately?”

“And sarcastic as ever, I see. Maric liked to joke around too, in his day.”

“Ah, yes, I've missed constantly being compared to a man I hardly knew.”

“Too bad the resemblance stops there.”

“Well, I'll take what I can get, I suppose! I _do_ love a good joke, after all. Tell me, which do you think is funnier? That you had Arl Eamon poisoned and he almost died? Or that you hired an assassin to _try to kill us?!_ ”

“A layabout, a drunk, _and_ a comedian! Maric _would_ be proud.” Loghain's mouth pressed into a grim line. “As I understand, that assassin failed miserably and ended up joining your cause.”

“That is _not_ the point-”

“Alright, that's _enough_!” Aster bellowed.

Both men jumped in surprise. Alistair had never heard something so loud come out of such a small person, but there she was, eyes practically burning with fury as she glared up at the pair.

“This is neither the time nor the place for this! We _get_ it, you don't like each other! You want to argue? Fine, but do it on your own time! We've got a job to do, and if you two can't work together, then- then, well, _tough shit_ , because aside from Blackwall, you two are the only Wardens we've got!”

The two stared at her, mouth agape as she gasped for breath, fists shaking at her sides. Tears started to gather as she continued, her voice shaky. “Look, I've got a _lot_ on my plate. A darkspawn magister tried to _kill_ me, I got to see all my friends _die_ in the _future_ , the wardens decided that a mass demon summoning was an _amazing idea_ , and Some Important Lady I don't even know is going to get assassinated! The _world_ is falling apart, and the last thing I need is, is,” Her arms flailed at the two of them, “Whatever _this_ is!”

“Work this out or don't, I don't care! Just save it until I'm out of earshot.” She shot a glare to each of them in turn. “Got it?”

The pair nodded meekly.

“Good!” She took a deep breath, counting to ten before letting it out. “Now, _Ser Loghain_ , I'm going to ask you to fill Alistair in on the situation with the Wardens gathering in the Western Approach. Alistair, you're going to listen, and only speak if you need anything clarified. _I..._ ” she continued, jabbing her thumb at herself, “... Am going to walk away, and I'm going to go find the _largest_ pillow I can so I can _screeeaaam_ into it. And when I come back, we're going to- _calmly and rationally-_ discuss what needs to be done.” She glanced back and forth between the two. “Am... I... _clear?”_

Loghain merely nodded.

Alistair had to clear his through several times before he could speak, and his voice cracked when he did. “C-crystal.”

 

* * *

 

Talia's jaw dropped. “You _really_ said all _that_?”

Aster somehow managed to nod, regardless of how buried her face was in her knees. “I knowwww, I can't believe it either. I just got so _mad,_ it was like something else took over entirely.” She peeked up at her friend, eyes watery. “.... Should I apologize to them?”

“ _Pffftttttt,_ Sweet Andraste, _no!_ They deserved it!”

“Yeah, b-but I shouldn't have yelled, right?”

Talia shook her head. “You did what you had to to get the situation under control. Sometimes that means yelling and then having a good cry. That's what a leader does.” She smiled, pulling Aster into a half-hug. “I just wish I could have seen it. Two hardened veterans, cowed by a woman half their size.”

Aster managed a laugh, sitting up slightly and wiping her eyes. “It felt pretty good, I have to admit.” She sighed. “I _knew_ Alistair had a history with Loghain, but I didn't think he'd get that upset so quickly!”

Talia scoffed. “That's nothing. You should have seen him the other night.”

Aster blinked. “I did hear about that, but only some bits and pieces. What actually happened there?”

“When Leliana told him he _had_ to work with Loghain, he went and got himself more soused than I even thought possible.”

“... How soused is 'soused'?”

“He was basically unconscious. We're lucky he's still alive, to be honest.”

“It was _that bad?”_

Talia groaned, massaging her temple. “Blackwall and Sera said he was _miserable_ when they found him at the tavern. Poor Cole was practically beside himself trying to find a way to help. If he hadn't come and got me...”

Silence fell over the pair, neither of them willing to finish that particular thought. They sat together, enjoying the relative quiet of Skyhold's garden, filled with only wind and occasional birdsong. Aster was the first to finally speak.

“Oh yeah, that's right, speaking of Cole...”

“Hmm?”

“... Did he change his hat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... three months for the last chapter, and then this one practically wrote itself in, what, two days? Hope y'all enjoy!


End file.
